


Chrysalis

by flowerfan



Series: Chrysalis 'verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Communication, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery, amnesia!blaine, coma!blaine, future!fic, married!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 68,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just after graduating from NYU, a car accident puts Blaine into a coma.  No one expects him to wake up.  Almost three years later, Kurt sees a man in a wheelchair who couldn’t be anyone else.  A story of love and new beginnings.  Canon compliant through 6x11, then AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story begins after the accident, and does not discuss the accident at all. There is discussion of waking from a coma and recovery, and related medical issues. Death of a very minor adult character is discussed but not in detail (it happens before the story as well).
> 
> I started this story because I wanted to try my hand at the amnesia!Blaine trope, but it took on a life of its own; oh well!
> 
> Many thanks to perry_avenue for being a wonderful beta!

Kurt made his way through the crowded city park, trying to appreciate the spring flowers blooming all around him and the small children playing happily in the grass, but all he really wanted was to get home, pour himself a glass of wine, and settle into his evening routine of surfing the web and falling asleep on the couch with late night television playing in the background. He groaned when he saw a slow group of elderly pedestrians on the path ahead of him, and almost turned to take a different route, when something made him stop.

In front of him was a man in a wheelchair, his head tilted to the side, blinking at a little girl who was showing him a dandelion she had picked. Kurt’s heart pounded hard in his chest, and he pushed his way through the people around him to get closer. It wasn’t possible – it couldn’t be – but it was.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed out, dropping to his knees in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, sir, he doesn’t recognize anyone.” Kurt looked up to see a dark haired woman in a pastel scrub top returning her attention to Blaine. “It’s better not to upset him.” She took the handles of the wheelchair and started to pull Blaine away.

“Wait, no, please, let me talk to him.” Kurt scrambled to his feet and followed after her, trying to get a closer look at Blaine. His hair was cut very short, not a curl in sight, and his face was covered in stubble. He was still as thin and fragile-looking as the last time Kurt had seen him. But his eyes were open. He was _awake._ “Please, I need to talk to him.”

The woman paused, impatient. “Fine.” She rolled Blaine off the path and stood with a frown on her face. “Go ahead.” When Kurt gave her a look, she sent one right back. “It’s not as if I can leave him with a stranger. Say what you need to say.”

_I’m not a stranger, you witch,_ Kurt thought, but now was not the time. He crouched down, trying to catch Blaine’s gaze, and what he saw there almost made his heart stop beating. Blaine’s honey eyes were wide and responsive, and they latched on to Kurt’s. It was the first time Blaine had looked at Kurt in almost three years.

“Blaine, sweetheart, it’s me,” Kurt said softly, reaching out slowly to touch Blaine’s hands where they rested on his lap. Blaine’s lips twitched but he didn’t say anything, his long lashes fluttering as he blinked at Kurt. “It’s so good to see you, I can’t believe it’s you.” Blaine’s gaze shifted away and back again, his eyes once more focusing directly on Kurt. “How are you feeling? Are you all right?”

Blaine didn’t respond, and Kurt took one of his hands in his, rubbing a finger along his dry skin. “It’s okay if you can’t answer me, don’t worry about it.” Kurt scooted closer to Blaine, resisting the urge to take him in his arms, something his caregiver would probably not take well to, given the scornful look she was still directing at Kurt.

Kurt made sure Blaine was looking at him again, and tried to gather his thoughts. “Blaine, I’m honestly not sure what’s going on here, but I’m going to figure it out.” Blaine blinked at him, and Kurt thought he saw hope in his eyes. “I promise, sweetheart. You’re not alone, okay?”

The woman cleared her throat, and Kurt looked up. “I’m sorry sir, we need to be getting back.”

Kurt nodded, intending to comply, but not yet. Holding Blaine’s gaze, he slowly moved a hand up to cup his cheek. Blaine closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, his stubble rough against Kurt’s hand, and Kurt’s breath caught in his chest. Blaine was back, he was right here in front of him, and Kurt was going to do anything he could to help him. 

Starting with charming the pants off this nurse so he could figure out where she was taking Blaine.

*****

The next day, up early and with a large pot of coffee for sustenance, Kurt started making phone calls. His first was to Isabelle, to let her know he’d need a few days off from Vogue. He didn’t tell her much, just that it was a family emergency, but hopefully one of the better variety. Then he called his lawyer. Within a few hours they had a plan, including scheduling a meeting with the head of the long-term care facility where Blaine was staying, information Kurt had finally been able to wheedle out of Blaine’s caregiver.

The story in a nutshell, as Wes explained the next day to the facility’s attorney, was that Kurt was entitled to access to Blaine. Blaine had been in a car accident which had left him in a coma almost three years ago, just after his graduation from college. He was completely nonresponsive, and his doctors didn’t believe he would ever wake up. Two years ago, Blaine’s condition having shown no improvement whatsoever, Kurt had started auditioning again, and had gotten cast in a Broadway tour which wound up taking him out of New York for nine months. While he was away, Blaine’s mother took over temporary responsibility for Blaine’s care. When Kurt had returned home, Blaine was gone, and Kurt was served with divorce papers. But Kurt never signed them, and as far as he was concerned, he had never stopped being Blaine’s official guardian. Legal niceties aside, Kurt was still Blaine’s husband, and now that he had found him, Kurt wasn’t going anywhere.

The care center attorney and staff reacted much as Kurt had expected, hemming and hawing but eventually giving in to Wes’ eminently reasonable requests, and by the end of the day Kurt was granted family member status, pending further confirmation of whether his right to make decisions about Blaine’s care trumped that of Blaine’s mother. Just as Kurt and Wes were about to leave the room, Kurt’s thoughts turning rapidly to how soon he could actually see Blaine again, one of the staff members spoke up.

“Actually, there’s one more complication,” she said, sifting through the papers in front of her. “His mother actually passed away some time ago. Before his transfer here.”

“Wait – if it wasn’t his mother that moved him, who was it?”

“Looks like someone named Cooper.”

*****  
Kurt was fuming as Wes led him out of the center and down the street to a coffee shop. “I’m going to kill him, that irresponsible, useless idiot…”

“Sit down and take a few deep breaths,” Wes said, joining Kurt at an empty table. “There’s always more to the story in situations like this, believe me.”

“But why the hell wouldn’t Cooper let me know what was going on? Why didn’t he tell me that Blaine woke up? That he was in New York, right here? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Wes shrugged. “Let me deal with Cooper. You should focus on the positive. Blaine’s just a few blocks away, and you can visit him tomorrow. He’ll be so happy to see you.”

Kurt sucked in a breath, feeling the weight of Wes’ words. “Do you think so? Do you think he knows me?” 

“You’re the one who saw him. What do you think?”

Kurt closed his eyes, remembering how Blaine had gazed at him yesterday, trapped in a body that could hardly move but so, so, alive. It hurt so much, thinking of Blaine all alone, in the hands of people who didn’t think of him as anything but an uncommunicative patient, a body, interchangeable with any other. His nurse hadn’t thought he was capable of recognizing anyone, but who had there been for him to recognize? “I think it doesn’t matter if he knows me,” Kurt whispered, almost afraid to say it. “I know him.”

*****

The next day Kurt presented himself at the front desk of the care facility, smiling pleasantly and prepared for an argument as he asked to see Blaine. But either Wes’ work had been effective or the center wasn’t very picky about who got in to see their residents, because the receptionist just handed Kurt a sign-in sheet and told him how to find Blaine’s room.

Kurt took the elevator up to the third floor, and walked slowly down the hall, trying to tamp down his negative reaction. It wasn’t as if he was familiar with many long-term care centers, and from the brief research he had done, this one didn’t seem to have any glaring strikes against it. But the walls were a dingy white, the staff weren’t particularly friendly, and the few patients he saw sitting in a small living room looked half-asleep. The underlying smell of antiseptic and urine didn’t do much to improve the atmosphere.

When Kurt reached Blaine’s room, he paused to pull Blaine’s chart out of the slot next to the door. It was mostly jargon he didn’t understand, and Kurt realized he was going to need more than just a lawyer to figure out how to best care for Blaine. No matter how smart or well-intentioned Wes was, there were some parts of this he wouldn’t know how to deal with either.

Kurt rubbed his hands on his pants, suddenly nervous. He sucked in a deep breath, knocked a few times on Blaine’s half-open door, and went inside. The room was small and dark, the curtains closed even though it was broad daylight outside. Other than the bed, there wasn’t much to it -- a dresser with nothing but a plastic water cup sitting on it, and a small table with two uncomfortable-looking chairs.

Blaine was in bed, raised to a semi-sitting position. He turned his head a little when Kurt came in, and Kurt thought his eyes opened just a bit more. “Hi Blaine,” Kurt said softly, his voice catching in his throat. Kurt moved closer to the bed and reached out to take Blaine’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Blaine’s eyes closed for a moment, and then Blaine squeezed his hand back, his eyes widening and locking on to Kurt’s as if to say “see, I can say hi, too.”

Kurt smiled, sitting down on the bed, his leg against Blaine’s side. He took Blaine’s hand in his lap and stroked it, noting again how dry his skin was. “I’ll bring some hand cream for you tomorrow. I’ve got a nice citrusy one I think you’d like.” Kurt wasn’t sure that a conversation about skin care was really the most important thing to talk about right now, but Blaine’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, so he kept going, talking about how the cool winter air had been hard to deal with this year, but he thought that he was doing okay on the wrinkle prevention front. When Kurt took Blaine’s hand and held it up to his face so he could feel Kurt’s skin for himself, Blaine’s fingers moved against his cheek, and Kurt was overwhelmed for a moment.

“You’re back, sweetheart, I can’t believe you’re back,” Kurt breathed out, his chest feeling tight. Blaine just blinked at him, and Kurt wondered if he knew what had happened, if he had any idea what he had been through. Kurt ran a finger along Blaine’s hairline, his hair cropped closely to his head but still so soft, and Blaine closed his eyes. The long scar over Blaine’s left eyebrow was still visible, faded now to off-white, but Kurt remembered when it was an angry red, one more sign of how broken Blaine was. “You were in a car accident, do you remember?” Blaine opened his eyes and looked at Kurt, questioning. “It was really bad. A drunk driver hit you, and your little Prius just flipped over… They didn’t think you were going to wake up. You didn’t, either, for the longest time. But now you have, and I’m so, so grateful.” Kurt couldn’t hold the tears in anymore, and he lay down on Blaine’s chest, tucking his head into his neck. It was still Blaine, under the unfamiliar smells and flimsy hospital gown, it was still his lover’s skin, and bones, and heart. “I love you so much, Blaine. Thank you for coming back to me.”

As Kurt lay there, trying to get his breathing under control, he felt Blaine’s hand land on his head, and shaky fingers slide into his hair. It had been so long since he had felt his husband’s arms around him. Even this barely there touch, this small sign of comfort and affection, was more than he had ever thought he would get to feel again.

*****

A few days later, Kurt was surprised to find that Blaine wasn’t in his room when he came to visit. An orderly he hadn’t met before was sitting at a table with him in the larger living room downstairs. Her blond ponytail swung as she turned to meet him, giving Kurt one of the first genuine smiles he had seen from the staff members.

“Kurt? Hi, I’m Jenny.”

She stuck out her hand and Kurt took it. “Hi, Jenny. Nice to meet you.” He paused. “Not to be rude, but how do you know my name?”

Jenny laughed. “You were here visiting Blaine all afternoon yesterday, and the day before – I saw your name in the guest book. So I figured it was probably you. Is Blaine a friend of yours?”

Kurt drew in a breath, amazed at how strange it was to say this, in this bizarre situation. “He’s my husband,” Kurt said softly. “I… didn’t know where he was. I didn’t even know he was here until last week.” Kurt hated saying he had “found” Blaine, because it seemed to highlight the fact that he had lost track of him, misplaced him as if he was a thing, an object, not the love of his life.

Her face fell. “Oh my god, that’s awful,” she said, looking from Blaine’s mostly expressionless face back to Kurt’s. “I, um, I don’t know Blaine that well, I only work here a few days a week, after school, and he’s only been here a little while. But maybe we could get coffee sometime, and you could tell me more about him?”

Kurt nodded, amazed that there was someone in this awful place that actually seemed to care about Blaine. “That would be wonderful,” he said. They exchanged numbers, and then Jenny excused herself, leaving him alone with Blaine.

“Hi,” Kurt said, scooting a chair up closer to him, and taking his hand. “Jenny seems nice. Was it her idea to come sit out here?”

Blaine didn’t answer, of course, but Kurt powered through. The room was decorated in non-offensive blues and greens, with chairs and small tables sprinkled around. Except for the fact that it was largely deserted, it was relatively pleasant. There was even a piano in the corner. 

“I think sometimes they have concerts here. Would you like to come to a concert? I’d come too.” Kurt craned his neck, but he couldn’t see the notices on the corkboard. “I’ll check before I leave, find out what’s going on.”

He saw Blaine’s eyes flicker towards the piano, then back down to his lap. Kurt took both his hands in his own, squeezing gently. “You’re my favorite piano player, though. Maybe you’ll play again for me sometime. I love listening to you play.” Kurt tried to remember the last time he heard Blaine play on their old piano in their apartment.

“Remember your senior year at NYU, when you were music director for the freshman show? You were up all night sometimes, trying to arrange everything so it suited each cast member’s range. Everyone was so impressed.”

Kurt ducked his head, trying to catch Blaine’s eyes, but Blaine wasn’t cooperating. He seemed sad, and Kurt wanted to kick himself for his choice of topic; maybe it wasn’t a good idea to talk about things Blaine couldn’t do anymore? He wished he knew what Blaine was thinking, whether he was taking in what Kurt was saying at all.

“How about I sing for you?” Kurt suggested. Blaine looked up at this, meeting Kurt’s eyes at last. “Yeah? Decent idea?” The edge of Blaine’s lips twitched, and Kurt smiled. “Okay, it’s been a while, let me think of something to sing.”

Kurt suddenly had an idea, and he forced himself to say it, before he chickened out. “You pick what you want me to sing, okay? I’ll give you two choices, and then I’ll ask you to squeeze my hand and tell me which one you want to hear.”

Blaine was still looking at him, paying attention, so Kurt went on, letting go of Blaine’s hands. “Your first choice is Blackbird, by the Beatles.” He hummed a few bars, watching Blaine closely, but he couldn’t tell if Blaine recognized it. “Your second choice is…” Kurt tried to think of something meaningless, something that couldn’t possibly have any personal meaning to them. “Happy birthday.” He hummed that one too, keeping his face neutral.

Kurt took one of Blaine’s hands in his again, holding it loosely. “So, when I say the song you want me to hear, just move your hand a little, okay?” He took a deep breath. “First one – Blackbird.” 

Blaine closed his eyes, and then his hand moved in Kurt’s, more a twitch than a squeeze, but it definitely moved. 

“All right, one vote for Blackbird. How about Happy Birthday?” 

Blaine opened his eyes and looked at Kurt, but his hand remained still.

“Blackbird it is then,” Kurt breathed out, his eyes still locked on Blaine’s. He sat up straight, not wanting to leave Blaine’s side, and began to sing. At some point during the song Blaine’s eyes closed, but Kurt kept going, not knowing if Blaine had fallen asleep or was just enjoying the music. As he came to the last chorus, Kurt’s heart clenched as he saw a tear escape from Blaine’s eye and slide down his cheek.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Kurt exclaimed, the song forgotten as he crouched next to his husband and took him in his arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s bony shoulders and pulled him close, guiding his head up against his own and holding him tight. “You remember that song, don’t you? I know you do. It’s special to me, too.” He rubbed a hand along Blaine’s back, trying to comfort him. “I love you so much. It’s going to be all right. We’re together now. We’re going to get through this together, okay?” Kurt pulled back and looked at Blaine, who still had tears streaming silently down his face. Kurt wrapped his arms around him again, the angle awkward with Blaine in the wheelchair. “You must be so scared, honey, but it’s going to get better. Just hang in there, I’m going to help you. I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt met up with Jenny the very next morning, taking her out for breakfast before her classes. She was in training to be a nursing assistant, and had some very interesting things to say about caring for individuals in Blaine’s condition. 

“I don’t want to say anything bad about the center,” she said at one point, biting her lip. “It’s actually a pretty decent place. But I think they are treating Blaine as if he’s closer to minimally conscious than he is. He’s actually very well oriented, very aware, and is getting better every day.”

“How is it possible they don’t see that?”

Jenny shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re just going on what his last doctor said, before he was moved here. But if I were you, I’d have him evaluated by an outside physician.”

Kurt exhaled, relieved to have confirmation that he was on the right track, even if from a twenty-two year old student. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you are looking out for him,” he said finally. “It seems like you actually care about Blaine.”

“Of course I do,” she said matter of factly. “What kind of caregiver would I be if I didn’t?”

Kurt thought it was probably best to leave that question unanswered.

*****

“This is Dr. Kamali. Quinn worked with her when she was in medical school. She’s the best.” 

Blaine looked from Kurt to the dark haired woman he was showing into the room, his head turning slowly. It had only been two weeks since Kurt had first seen Blaine in the park, but already Kurt could see that Blaine was sitting up straighter in his wheelchair, holding himself differently, moving just a little bit more freely.

It had been a struggle trying to figure out what type of medical care Blaine had been receiving. Kurt had quickly come to the conclusion that whatever it was, it was completely insufficient. Wes had tried to reason with him, pointing out that until very recently, all of the various physicians who had evaluated Blaine had agreed that he was unlikely to improve.

“But then he woke up, Wes,” Kurt had fumed. “He woke up. Shouldn’t he be getting ‘round the clock therapy? Something more than a pat on the head and an orderly to wheel him back and forth to the television room?”

Kurt knew Wes agreed with him, but before they could insist on any changes, they had to sort out the matter of who was making decisions for Blaine. Kurt pretty much thought it should be Blaine at this point, with Kurt’s help, but the care center hadn’t agreed yet, and they weren’t likely to just on Kurt’s say-so. When Wes mentioned, ever so tactfully, that failing to provide appropriate care for Blaine might amount to violation of several federal and state regulations, the center’s attorney had agreed to let Kurt bring in a doctor of his own choosing to evaluate Blaine, in conjunction with a re-evaluation by a staff physician. 

Kurt had explained this to Blaine the night before, hoping that at least some of it got through to him. It was so hard to tell how much he understood about what was going on around him. Kurt was of the opinion that he pretty much understood everything, he just couldn’t respond well enough to prove it. But it was clear from how most of the orderlies and nurses spoke to Blaine that they didn’t think much of his mental state, as they continued to address him as if he were a child. It was infuriating.

But now a highly qualified doctor was going to examine Blaine, and give them feedback that Kurt could actually trust. 

“Good morning, Blaine, it’s nice to meet you,” Dr. Kamali said, sitting next to Blaine at the small table in his room. Blaine turned towards her, his shoulders moving too, and nodded his head slightly. “I’d like to talk to you for a little bit, if that’s okay?”

Blaine’s eyes flitted up to Kurt’s, and Kurt could swear he could see amusement in his expression. It wasn’t as if Blaine was going to do any actual talking, but he appreciated the thought. 

“I think he’d like that,” Kurt said, looking to Blaine, who gave another tiny nod. “Do you want me to stay here?”

Kurt realized he wasn’t sure if he was asking Blaine or the doctor, but she turned to him and smiled. “Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee and let us get acquainted?” she suggested.

“Okay.” Kurt gave Blaine’s shoulder a quick squeeze and left the room, walking down the hall until he came to the small sitting area. He wasn’t about to drink the abysmal beverage that was the only coffee-like substance around here, but he could check his email, at least pretend that he was paying attention to what was going on at work.

Last week Kurt had had a heart to heart with Isabelle, and had told her all about the change in Blaine’s condition. They had agreed that Kurt would cut back to a part-time schedule, working half days every day, so that he could spend afternoons and evenings with Blaine. Kurt often thought that Isabelle had indeed been his fairy godmother, accommodating his short-lived Broadway dreams, and making a place for him again when he had returned from his first and only tour, devastated to find Blaine gone and that period in his life seemingly over forever. Working at Vogue had been his refuge, a way to keep his mind occupied with something he truly enjoyed, when he just didn’t have the will to keep performing. 

But Isabelle understood that he had to step back right now – in fact, she insisted. She pointed out that at least some good would come of how Kurt had squirrelled away most of his pay for the past few years, living in the same small apartment that he and Blaine had lived in throughout Blaine’s time at NYU, and spending little money on himself. Kurt hadn’t wanted to leave the apartment; it was the first real home he had shared with his husband. It held too many precious memories. He wouldn’t let himself think about whether he could have that life back again, he and Blaine; it was too soon. But he was hoping that what Dr. Kamali had to say might give him a hint.

Kurt slid his phone back into his pocket, too distracted to focus on work. He wondered what the doctor would tell him – was Blaine going to keep recovering? Was Kurt being overly optimistic about Blaine’s condition? Was he really just seeing what he wanted to see, reading too much into Blaine’s expressive eyes? He didn’t think so, but it would be nice to have an expert agree with him.

*****  
That night Kurt called Wes, so wound up that he hardly knew where to start. “Wes, we’ve got to get Cooper on board, right now. I don’t care if he’s in Bolivia or Botswana or Barcelona, it’s time for him to agree to let me steer this ship.”

Wes sounded as if he had been asleep, which actually wasn’t that surprising now that Kurt realized it was almost midnight on a work night. “Kurt? What’s happening?”

“Dr. Kamali evaluated Blaine today. She’s says he’s doing great, really great, considering how long he was out. But that he needs several different kinds of therapy, and the longer he waits to get it, the harder it will be for him to make a full recovery.”

“A full recovery?” Wes said, his voice tinged with hope.

“Yes,” Kurt said urgently. He didn’t want to somehow jinx it, but it was important that Wes understood what was at stake. “She said she needs to bring him to the hospital for more cognitive and physical testing, but that from what she can see, it’s very promising.”

“Kurt,” Wes breathed out, his usual calm demeanor slipping away. “That’s wonderful.”

“I know.”

*****  
Somehow Wes worked his magic, eventually connecting with the attorney for the production Cooper was working on in Toronto, and getting Cooper’s attention long enough for Kurt and Wes to have a conference call with him. After being brought up to speed on Blaine’s condition, Cooper readily agreed to let Kurt take over Blaine’s guardianship, and promised to sign whatever papers were necessary as soon as Wes sent them to him. 

“But look, Kurt, I just don’t get why you’re doing this. You’ve moved on, you don’t need to worry about Blaine anymore.”

Kurt took a deep breath, willing himself not to yell at Cooper. He had already agreed to sign guardianship over to Kurt, there was no need to rock the boat. “What makes you think I’ve moved on?”

“Well, you didn’t seem to care when Mom moved him out to Ohio, and then you divorced him. I’m not judging you, here, I’m really not. I totally get why you did it. I’m just not sure what’s brought on this change of heart.”

“Your mother moved him away from New York without my permission, Cooper,” Kurt said tightly. “I never agreed to that – and in fact, she didn’t even tell me where she had taken him.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. 

“What, exactly, did your mother tell you?” Kurt asked. His anger at Pam over the years had always been tempered with sympathy for the fact that she was dealing with what was essentially the loss of a child. He had tried to understand her point of view when he realized she had moved Blaine to Ohio behind his back while Kurt was away on tour. Kurt had been too weary to fight her on it, and a part of him believed that maybe Blaine was better off this way, especially since it was unclear whether any amount of care would make any difference in his future. But lately Kurt had realized that at some point, something had gone very wrong.

Cooper sighed. “She didn’t tell me anything, actually. We hadn’t talked in a while. My aunt finally tracked me down to tell me she was sick, had been sick for months. By the time I came home, she had died.”

Through the haze of his anger at Cooper, Kurt could still feel a pang of sympathy for him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, it sucked. Anyway, when I talked to the people at the nursing home, or whatever, they said Blaine was single, and Mom was his only guardian. None of us were left in Ohio anymore, and my aunt knew someone at this place in New York that was supposed to be good at taking care of people in comas, so we had him moved there.”

Something about the way Cooper phrased this explanation seemed off to Kurt. “Cooper, do you even live in New York?”

A pause. “No, obviously I live in Toronto. Why?”

Kurt couldn’t believe Cooper had shipped Blaine off to a city hundreds of miles away from where he lived, and he said so. 

“Give me a break, man, Blaine didn’t care.”

Kurt froze, hardly able to believe the nonchalance with which Cooper was speaking about his brother.

Cooper went on, heedless of Kurt’s feelings. “He was in a coma, there was nothing to do – it didn’t matter if I was next door or on the other side of the planet. They said he was never going to wake up. I did kind of wonder why he wasn’t, you know, unplugged, but I figured if Mom had wanted to do that, she would have done it already.”

Kurt was mad as hell at Cooper, and petrified at the thought that he might have been the only thing standing in between Blaine’s life and death. He was grateful when Wes spoke up, using his reasonable lawyer voice to try to smooth over the tension.

“We understand, Cooper, it’s just hard to think about that now that Blaine is waking up.”

“Yeah, well, as soon as I heard he was getting better, I had him moved to the place he’s in now, it’s just down the street from the old one, so it wasn’t as hard as the last move. It’s a really nice place, right? They were supposed to call me and let me know how he’s doing, but I guess I’ve kind of been hard to reach.”

Kurt still couldn’t manage to say anything, and Wes apparently understood. “Well, we know how to get in touch with you now. Maybe you’ll come visit Kurt and Blaine when you have a break from filming? I’m sure it would be good for Blaine to see you.”

Cooper agreed to let them know when his scheduled eased up, and got off the phone. 

“Kurt? You okay?” Wes asked. “Want me to come over?”

Kurt was tempted, as he would have liked to have a live audience for the rant that was going through his head, but he had taken up enough of Wes’ time today. And they both needed to get to work. “No, I’ll be okay.”

“I’m going to fax the paperwork to Cooper’s attorney as soon as we get off the phone. If everything goes right, you will officially be Blaine’s guardian again by end of business tomorrow.”

Kurt inhaled slowly, then let his breath out again. He still wanted to throttle Cooper, but that couldn’t be his priority right now. “Focus on the positive, right?”

“Exactly.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?"

Blaine gave Kurt the same look he had given Dr. Kamali the other day - a slightly raised eyebrow that seems to say sure, have at it, just don't expect much in return.

Blaine was lying on his stomach in bed, his face turned towards Kurt, seemingly pleased and relaxed. Kurt had decided that Blaine deserved a back rub. With a bit of effort and awkward fumbling from them both, he had helped Blaine turn over, and then proceeded to give him a thorough massage, using a sweet almond oil Blaine had always loved. It felt good to have his hands on Blaine, skin to skin, and if he was any judge of his husband's body language - as stiff as it might be at the moment - Blaine had enjoyed it too.

But there was something that had been bothering Kurt. He hadn't known exactly how to raise it with Blaine, but after a recent update from Dr. Kamali, he thought he finally had the words.

Kurt scooted himself forward in his chair and put a hand on Blaine's arm, wanting to keep the connection between them. Blaine had lost some of the muscle definition in his biceps that used to fill out his polo shirts, but even thin and pale he was still beautiful, his eyes as expressive as ever, his dark lashes fluttering against the white pillowcase. Kurt felt so much love for him. Frankly he was so overwhelmed with emotion these days, it was hard to think about anything else.

Kurt knew Blaine was waiting to hear what necessitated his pronouncement, and so he took a breath and jumped in. "It occurred to me that you might not know much about your condition, or your prognosis.” _Way to use big words, Kurt,_ he chastised himself. “I mean, I don't know what anyone has told you." _Probably nothing,_ Kurt thought scornfully. "And you can't really ask anyone about it, so you're kind of stuck not knowing. Am I right?"

Blaine eyes were wide, and his lips tightened as his head jerked in a quick nod. 

Kurt moved his hand down Blaine's arm, and took his hand in his. "I'm going to try to explain, but if you don't understand what I'm saying, poke me, okay?"

A minuscule nod from Blaine. He looked scared.

With another deep breath, Kurt went on. "You know you were in a car accident, and you had a serious head injury. It affected the area of your brain that controls awareness and arousal, and that's why you were in a coma for so long." Kurt skipped over just how long; that's a conversation for another time, although it would probably come sooner than the one about how Blaine's mother was dead, and his brother was an incompetent fool. Focus, Kurt, focus. "Dr. Kamali’s been evaluating you to find out how you are doing now, what other damage was done, and what we can expect from your recovery. She was also having your therapists do some follow up work with you, as you probably noticed. She called me last night to talk to me about it."

Blaine didn't respond, but he was still gazing directly at Kurt, looking as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"It's not bad, honey," Kurt said quickly, squeezing Blaine's hand. "It's really not bad at all, it's good. She says as far as she can tell, there's no significant damage to any other parts of your brain, which is really unusual with long term coma patients. It confirms what she thought when she first met you, when you charmed her without speaking a word, by the way – she believes you could make a full recovery. Any problems from the time you spent snoozing should be correctable with some time and therapy."

Blaine looked somewhat stunned. Maybe Kurt was overestimating Blaine's ability to handle this right now. He reached out to cup Blaine's cheek and tilt Blaine's face towards him. "The big takeaway here is that you're going to be okay, all right?"

Blaine frowned and pointed to his legs as he tried unsuccessfully to turn himself on to his back, then brought his gaze back up to Kurt.

"Okay, it's hardly fair to judge yourself when you're trapped on your stomach like a turtle," Kurt said lightly, wrapping an arm under Blaine and helping him turn over, then shifting him around to sit propped up on the bed. Kurt joined him, close against his side.

"Your body is stiff because your muscles haven't been used in so long. They've atrophied." Kurt saw the flash of fear in Blaine's eyes. "But they can heal, you can build up your muscles again. You can get better," he rushed to reassure him. "That's what physical therapy is for. You're moving so much more easily already, I can see it. You're working hard, and it's going to pay off." Kurt didn't want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't insisted Blaine be evaluated, if he ever would have gotten the therapy he needed to recover. If he would have been stuck in bed, practically immobile, for the rest of his life.

Blaine seemed encouraged by this, and slid his hand along Kurt's side until Kurt took it in his.

"There's one more thing I need to tell you," Kurt said calmly, hoping his tone would keep Blaine from taking this the wrong way.

But like a kid about to be chastised, Blaine grew still again.

Better just spit it out. "Dr. Kamali said there's no reason you can't talk. No physical reason. Nothing's stopping you."

Blaine tugged his hand out of Kurt's and twisted his head away, his eyes pressed closed.

"Hey, don't be upset, honey, that's good news. No one's accusing you of anything. You're not doing anything wrong." Kurt slid down next to Blaine and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his whole body against his husband, wishing he could take away his fears. "It's good news, the _best_ news. Because you could have had damage to the part of your brain that controls speech. That's what they were afraid of at first, it was one of the things they were testing for. And you don't. You don't." Kurt stroked his fingers through Blaine's short curls. "You're all good in here," he said gently.

Blaine turned his head back towards Kurt, pressing into his hand. Kurt shifted so he could see his face, but Blaine's eyes were still closed, his lashes damp with tears.

"So just don't worry about it, okay? You'll talk when you're ready." Kurt hugged Blaine closer. "Until then everyone will just have to be content with listening to me talk for the both of us. It was never a problem before, I don't see why it should seem strange now."

Kurt felt Blaine twitch in what probably would have been a chuckle had Kurt not been squeezing him so tightly. He found Blaine's hand and held it in his own. "I love you so much, sweetheart." 

Blaine shifted against Kurt and pulled their clasped hands tighter to his own chest. 

"I know," Kurt whispered. "You don't have to say a thing. I know you love me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying this - please let me know! 
> 
> And also, it is important to note that this is entirely a work of fiction, and should not be taken as truth as far as medical details are concerned.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey, Kurt, moving in?” Blaine’s physical therapist, Michael, looked up as Kurt came in to Blaine’s room. He was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with dark skin and a crooked nose, and he made slender Blaine look even tinier in comparison. But according to Dr. Kamali he was working wonders with Blaine’s motor functions, and he was relentlessly cheerful to boot. Kurt kind of loved him.

“Nah, I just brought some things for the room,” Kurt replied, putting down the box he was carrying and moving to where Blaine was propped up on the bed, touching his hand in greeting.

“Sounds good. Next time maybe bring Blaine some workout clothes? I think he’s getting embarrassed in this hospital stuff.”

Blaine actually blushed, and Kurt had to grin at the adorable expression on his face. “I don’t know, washed out blue has always been such a good color on you,” he said to Blaine, fussing with the collar of the thin robe the staff usually dressed Blaine in. Blaine made a face and Kurt turned back to Michael. “Anything in particular? I asked one of the orderlies about bringing in his own clothes, and they seemed not to like the idea.”

Michael gave Kurt a pointed look that reminded him of his conversation with Jenny. “Didn’t you tell me you were running this ship? Look, I know it’s hard to figure out whose advice to take, and I’m sure you’re trying not to piss people off here, but go with your gut about what’s right for Blaine. You know him best. After that, I’d listen to Dr. Kamali, and anyone else responsible for Blaine’s medical care and recovery.”

Kurt nodded, and Michael went on. “As far as clothes, don’t go crazy with things that are hard to take care of, but I think he’d be more comfortable in t-shirts and sweatpants. And if he’s more comfortable, he’s going to be able to do a better job in physical therapy. Right?”

Kurt knew Michael was making sense, although he was also right about not wanting to piss off the staff. “Right.”

Michael turned to Blaine. “What do you think? Would wearing a nice comfy pair of sweats make it easier to move these around?” Michael patted Blaine’s legs, earning a quick nod from Blaine. “Case closed.” 

“Thank you, Michael,” Kurt said, standing up as Michael gathered his things.

“No problem. I’ll email you tonight with a full report, but long story short, Blaine’s doing great. Keep up with those exercises when I’m not here,” he said to Blaine, pointing at a bag of smaller items on the table. “See you guys in a few days.” 

Michael exited the room, leaving it significantly quieter, and Kurt turned his attention to Blaine. “Hi, sweetie.”

Blaine’s mouth quirked up and he reached a hand towards Kurt, who promptly took it and gave it a squeeze. 

“Want to see what I brought?”

Blaine nodded, and Kurt brought the box over, settling himself on the bed next to Blaine. It was comforting, being next to him, their sides pressed together, even if it was in a narrow hospital bed. In many ways it seemed as close to normal as they could be, like they were back home in their cozy little apartment, snuggling up together to watch a movie or read the paper – the actual hard copy newspaper, which Blaine had insisted on buying even though it was far easier to just get it on their tablets.

“I thought it would be nice to have some of your things from home,” Kurt said quietly, watching Blaine’s face for a response. He pulled a dark red chenille throw blanket out first, tucking it around their legs. Blaine reached out to touch it, finding an edge and rubbing it between his fingers. “You always liked how this one felt,” Kurt said quietly, trying not to think of all the times since Blaine’s accident that he had curled up on the couch, missing his husband, this blanket wrapped tightly around him.

“I brought some pictures, too. We can use them to decorate your room, if you want.” Blaine looked at him expectantly. “It’s all right if you don’t remember something, we’ll talk about it, okay?” Dr. Kamali had explained that even though Blaine was recovering well, there might still be gaps in his memory. It was apparently a fine line between talking with Blaine about things that might jog his memory, and upsetting him by reminding him that there were things he couldn’t remember. The concept had kept Kurt up at night more than once, and it was the reason he hadn’t brought in any pictures yet, even though he had packed them up days ago. He wasn’t sure why he had chosen to bring them with him today, but Michael’s comment seemed to explain it – he went with his gut.

“So I didn’t know if you’d rather see more recent things or older ones, so I brought a bunch,” Kurt began, talking almost to himself. He pulled out a photograph of a group of Dalton kids taken just after their Regionals performance, back in Kurt’s junior year, Wes smiling formally in the center and Kurt and Blaine grinning at each other like the lovesick teenagers they were. Kurt put it in Blaine’s lap, holding it steady while Blaine looked at it, slowing moving a finger over the people as Kurt named them. He paused on Wes, and looked at Kurt.

“Wes really grew up to be an amazing person, Blaine. I mean, we knew he had a knack for bringing order to chaos, but… I told you how he’s been helping me straighten everything out with your situation, right?”

Blaine nodded.

“I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last month or so without him. He’d really like to see you sometime, if that’s okay with you?” Kurt hadn’t meant to bring this up yet, but he figured now was as good a time as any. Blaine’s cognitive therapist, Dr. Stein, had suggested bringing some of Blaine’s friends or family by to visit. Wes pretty much fit into both categories, and confessed recently that he was actually dying to see Blaine in person.

Blaine’s eyes flicked down to the picture, as if he was trying to harmonize his memory of Dalton boy Wes with what Kurt had told him about Wes’ legal help.

“Wait, I’ve got a more recent picture.” Kurt shuffled around in the box and pulled out an unframed print taken at Blaine’s graduation. Blaine’s mom had made prints of all the pictures she took that day and mailed a set to Kurt, just weeks before Blaine’s accident. Kurt had never had a chance to frame any of them. He found the one he was looking for and held it out to Blaine. It was an informal shot of Wes, Kurt, Elliot and Rachel hugging Blaine, who was in his graduation robes and mortarboard, a giant grin on his face.

Blaine pointed to Wes and then looked at Kurt intently. 

“Yup, that’s Wes. So, okay if he stops by? He knows all about what’s going on, and he really wants to see you.”

Blaine nodded, but his eyes were downcast, which Kurt took to mean that he was still a little nervous about the idea. But Kurt trusted Wes, and he thought this would be good for Blaine. He hoped so, anyway.

“Want to see some more pictures?”

Blaine looked expectantly at Kurt, and Kurt proceeded to pull out several more framed prints, including one of his favorites of the two of them on their honeymoon, taken by another couple they had come upon while walking on the wintry Cape Cod beach. They were bundled up against the cold, Blaine’s cheeks as red as his scarf, but both of them so ridiculously happy that the photo almost vibrated with it. Kurt wondered if Blaine remembered that day, that week; if he remembered their impromptu, crazy double wedding with Brittany and Santana, or all the heartache that had come in the months before it. He wondered if it was wrong of him to hope that if Blaine had to forget something, that he would forget that horrible breakup, or his relationship with Karofsky. Almost as soon as he thought it, Kurt took it back – he wanted Blaine to remember everything, and what he didn’t remember, Kurt would tell him. Their journey might have had some bumps in the road, but nothing had ultimately gotten in the way of their happiness – at least, not until now.

Kurt shook his head, and tried to focus on the present, on his awake, alive husband lying next to him in bed. He touched Blaine’s stubbly cheek gently, thinking that he might give him a shave later, and Blaine sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch.

“You tired, honey?” As Blaine became more able to take part in his physical therapy sessions, instead of just lying there as Michael pushed his limbs around, it also took more out of him. “Want to nap a little, and we can get back to this later?”

Blaine turned his head towards Kurt and squinted one eye open, his mouth pulling up in a sideways grin. For a moment Kurt could hardly breathe, Blaine looked so much like his old self, his short little curls smushed up against the pillow, and a twinkle in his soft brown eyes.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Kurt put the pictures back into the box and set it all down on the floor, then climbed back up and curled himself against his husband, who promptly closed his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Blaine.” Kurt felt Blaine’s fingers find his and twine together, and he let himself drift off, basking in the warmth of his husband’s embrace.

Kurt woke up a little while later to the soothing feeling of his husband playing with his wedding ring. Blaine was lying on his back, Kurt curled around him with his left hand resting on Blaine’s chest. It was a familiar position, and for a moment Kurt forgot all the pain of the last few years, and let himself pretend that they were in their bed at home, snuggling up together after a long day of school and work.

Kurt opened his eyes and Blaine turned to meet his gaze, still holding Kurt’s hand in his.

“I love it when you do that,” Kurt said softly, looking at their hands. “I missed you so much.” 

Blaine tugged on Kurt’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

Kurt wondered if Blaine recognized the ring for what it was, or if it was just muscle memory to spin it on Kurt’s finger. No time like the present, he supposed.

He caught Blaine’s gaze, searching his eyes as he spoke. “I have yours, you know.”

Blaine’s eyes widened, and his fingers stopped moving. He looked scared.

“The doctors wouldn’t let us leave it on you when you were, um, asleep for so long,” Kurt said, stumbling over his words; he still had a hard time referring to Blaine as having been in a coma when he was actually speaking with him – it was too strange. “But I’ve got it.”

He climbed off the bed and went to his messenger bag, searching for the little box that he had taken to carrying around with him. He turned back to Blaine, who looked a bit like a deer in headlights. Or a puppy.

“I wish you could tell me what you were thinking. You look frightened.” Did Blaine even remember that they were married? Did he not want to be married anymore? “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” Kurt said, trying to keep his voice steady.

At this, Blaine’s eyes opened even wider, and he stuck his hand out towards Kurt, wiggling his fingers. 

Kurt laughed. “Oh, thank god,” he breathed out, sitting next to Blaine on the bed and taking his left hand in his. “You had me scared too, husband,” he said, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s fingers. He took the ring out of the box and slid it on to Blaine’s ring finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, again and again and again.” Blaine smiled, his eyes growing wet, and Kurt pulled him in to a tight hug. 

When they parted, Kurt insisted on testing the ring’s fit to make sure it wasn’t too loose. “I’ve kept it safe for the past three years, I wouldn’t want you to lose it now.” Satisfied that it wasn’t going to fall off, Kurt smiled at his husband, but was surprised to see a look of shock on Blaine’s face. He quickly replayed their conversation in his head… _crap_.

“I guess you heard that part about three years, huh?” Kurt asked. Blaine nodded slowly, biting his lip. “You didn’t realize you were out that long, did you?” Blaine shook his head, his skin growing paler.

“Don’t freak out, okay?” Kurt said gently. “It isn’t as bad as it sounds.” That didn’t even sound true in his head. And Blaine _was_ freaking out, or as close to it as Kurt had seen him do since he woke up. “Come here, honey.” Kurt wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, feeling him tremble. “Breathe, Blaine. Just breathe.” Kurt rubbed his hands up and down Blaine’s back, but he didn’t seem to be getting any calmer. “After the accident, you were in a coma for almost three years. You just started waking up a little while ago.” 

Blaine’s breath hitched and he started to cry, wrenching sobs tearing through his thin body. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I couldn’t figure out how to say it. But you’re okay now, you’re going to be okay. We’re both okay.” Kurt kept holding on to Blaine, running a hand up to hold the back of his head, sliding his fingers into his curls. “Nothing has changed between us. You’re still my amazing, beautiful husband, my best friend, and you always will be.” Kurt didn’t know if it was something he said or just the passage of time, but after a few minutes Blaine began to calm, his breath evening out in between sniffles. 

Kurt pulled back a little and grabbed a tissue off the nightstand, then softly dabbed at the tears on Blaine’s face. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I know this is weird, and really, really difficult, but I promise to help you figure it all out. I will.” Blaine breathed in a long, shaky breath, then sagged back against Kurt. Kurt resettled them on the bed, holding Blaine tightly against him as Blaine drifted back to sleep, exhausted. 

Kurt wished he had found a better way to tell Blaine that he had been in a coma for so long, but he wasn’t sure there was any good way to tell someone that they had lost three years of their life. At least it was out in the open now, and Kurt could start to fill Blaine in on what he had missed without tripping over himself to avoid giving it away. 

He had to help Blaine find a way to not worry about what he had lost, and focus on what was possible now. Because Kurt knew what Blaine probably hadn’t realized yet -- the craziest part of this whole situation wasn’t that Blaine had been asleep for three years, but that he had woken up at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bonus chapter since the last one was so short (I'll usually still be posting twice a week) - please let me know how you are enjoying the story! It means so much to hear from you.


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt practically skipped his way down the hall towards Blaine’s room, a bouquet of daisies in his hand. He had already left a bunch of brightly colored carnations and lilies with the front desk, bringing a smile to the woman on duty. It was a Saturday, he had the whole day to spend with Blaine, and he had plans.

But Blaine’s morning wasn’t going as well as his, judging from the expression on his face when Kurt arrived. He was sitting up on his bed – by himself, Kurt noticed with approval – his thin legs hanging off the side, with nothing on but a pair of blue and white checked boxer shorts.

“Hi Marta, what’s going on?” Kurt greeted the orderly. Kurt went over to Blaine and showed him the daisies, but Blaine was practically pouting and didn’t have much of a reaction. Kurt pulled the sheet up sideways over Blaine’s legs and sat down next to him, hoping his presence would relax Blaine a bit.

“He won’t let me dress him.” Marta replied shortly. She waved a light blue robe at Kurt to emphasize her point.

Kurt took in a long breath, trying to get himself in the right frame of mind for this conversation. Marta wasn’t his favorite of the staff, being rather set in her ways and not very appreciative of Kurt’s efforts to brighten things up. But she had been the one to let Kurt talk to Blaine in the park that day, and he felt he owed her a debt of gratitude, even if her role in the matter had been mostly coincidence. “We have his own clothes for him to wear,” Kurt explained. “That’s why he doesn’t want the robe.”

Blaine nodded, his mouth set in a frown.

“Those shirts are too hard to put on him,” Marta stated. “The robe is easier.”

“But his doctor wants him to wear his own clothes. They’re more comfortable, and he can move around better in them. The robe gets in the way of his physical therapy.” Kurt slid off the bed and opened the dresser drawer, standing back so Marta could see its contents. “If the shirt is too hard for you to handle, he can just wear one of these.” Kurt took a dark red zip-up sweatshirt jacket out of the drawer. “How does this strike you for today?” he asked Blaine, who nodded quickly. 

Kurt helped Blaine get the sweatshirt on, trying to let him do it himself as much as possible, while Marta just watched with a blank expression on her face. 

“Marta, I know it might seem like more work for you now, but it’s doctor’s orders,” Kurt said calmly. “And the more Blaine is able to do his therapy, the easier it will get for him to dress himself. Which is what we all want, right?”

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Marta, nor was the implication that she’d be happy to do less work. “This is a very difficult job,” she mumbled, putting the robe away in the closet.

“I know,” Kurt replied. He did know it, and he also knew that Marta probably didn’t get paid enough to support her family, even with overtime. “And I appreciate what you do for Blaine. Believe me, I’m not trying to make anything harder.” Kurt zipped up Blaine’s jacket, patting his shoulders, and smiling at him. “I love this color on you,” he said softly, and Blaine finally relented, smiling back at Kurt.

“Here,” Marta said, handing Kurt a folded up pair of gray sweatpants from the drawer.

“Thanks,” Kurt replied politely. Together they slid the pants up Blaine’s legs, Kurt wrapping his arms around Blaine to lift him as they pulled the pants up over his bottom. Kurt knew Blaine was probably counting the days until he could do this himself; there’s nothing quite as embarrassing as having a sixty year old lady have to put your pants on for you. Or, god forbid, your boxers. 

“Maybe we’ll try the pants lying down next time, it might be easier for you,” he whispered in Blaine’s ear, and Blaine pressed his face against his neck.

Marta stepped back, giving the two of them an appraising look. “You do take good care of him,” she said, perhaps by way of apology.

“We take care of each other,” Kurt said softly. As Marta left the room, Kurt turned towards his husband. “You okay?”

Blaine nodded, and wrapped his arms around Kurt, hugging him tightly. Kurt relaxed into it, breathing in the familiar smell of Blaine’s skin, now surrounded by the comforting aromas of his own body wash and laundry detergent. Whether or not it made Blaine feel better to be wearing his own clothes, it definitely made Kurt feel better, and that counted, too.

Kurt slid off the bed, making sure that Blaine was balancing by himself before letting go, and went over to the dresser. “Despite what I said to Marta, do you want a t-shirt on under that?” He brought over a navy Dalton shirt.

Blaine shook his head, but took the shirt in his hands and looked at Kurt curiously.

“What?”

Blaine frowned, and ran his fingers along the neckline of the t-shirt.

Kurt laughed. “Oh, yeah, that isn’t actually your Dalton shirt.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow at Kurt, and he could almost hear his “do tell,” in response.

“I know you love your old Dalton shirt, all worn out and ratty. But I didn’t want to bring it in here, and not even for the reason you might think.” Kurt took the new Dalton shirt from Blaine, tracing a finger over the bright yellow lettering. “I was sort of afraid it might get lost, and…” _And I don’t know what I’d do without it,_ he thought to himself. Because Kurt had saved it, treasured it, worn it to sleep when he needed a reminder of the boy he had lost. And he wasn’t about to let anyone else get their hands on it.

“So I called the dean and asked him to send me a few more. Or, rather, Wes called the dean. He seemed to think it would be more effective, since I was basically just a pain in the ass kid who made him register a new student and then refund most of the tuition two months later.”

Blaine laughed, an actual, real laugh, and Kurt wanted to do a cartwheel, the sound made him so happy. Dr. Kamali had assured him that Blaine’s muteness was related to the trauma and shock he had been through, and as he recovered, his anxiety would likely abate and he would speak again. And Kurt was grateful for Blaine’s expressive eyes now, more than ever, and the meaning he conveyed so fluently through touch. But he couldn’t help hoping that someday soon, he would hear his husband’s voice again. 

*****  
The first thing Kurt had planned for their Saturday was some quality time at the piano. Kurt was never going to be more than a passable piano player, but sometimes in college when he was particularly stressed he liked the challenge of trying to learn a new piece. It let him focus on something outside himself, and it was a task he had complete control over. It didn’t hurt that Blaine was there to help him out, either, and to sing along with the pop and Broadway numbers they both loved.

Over the past few years, with Blaine gone, Kurt hadn’t been particularly enthusiastic about keeping it up. But with Blaine back in his life, lately he had found himself sitting in front of their rickety piano more and more often, digging his piano books out and seeing what he remembered.

Now they were seated in front of the piano in the first floor recreation room, Blaine in his wheelchair and Kurt perched on the bench.

“Okay, go easy on me,” Kurt said as he pulled his Sonatina book out of his messenger bag. “It’s not perfect, but at least I probably won’t embarrass you too much,” he said, smiling. Kurt turned the book to the right page and tried not to let himself be nervous as he started to play. He really did want to do a good job, but more than that, he wanted Blaine to enjoy himself, and he honestly wasn’t sure what Blaine’s reaction would be.

When Kurt got to the middle section of the piece, his fingers tripped over themselves on a long run, and suddenly Blaine’s hand was there on top of his. Kurt stopped playing, and looked at his husband, who was gazing intently down at the piano.

“I know, I always get that part wrong,” Kurt said. “Let me start at the top of the page and try again.” It was a relatively simple piece, one that most middle school piano students could master, and he knew Blaine could have played it in his sleep. 

Despite himself, Kurt fumbled the run again, just a note or two, and he heard Blaine huff next to him as he stopped playing. Blaine set his right hand on the piano, tentatively pressing the keys, and then slowly, like a kid sight reading the piece for the first time, played the notes that were causing Kurt the problems.

Kurt nodded, silently cheering but not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “Thanks. I know it sounds wrong, but somehow I can’t figure out how to do it right.” 

Blaine played it again, correctly, and then looked pointedly at Kurt. Kurt ran it through, not as fast, and finally made it without a snag. Then he went back to the beginning and played the entire piece, catching Blaine’s smile out of the corner of his eye as he made it past the troublesome measures.

“Whew. Guess that one needed a little more work,” Kurt said, closing the book and turning to Blaine. “I’ll leave this here so we can play it again sometime.” Or maybe you’ll feel like playing from it yourself, he thought, although that might be getting ahead of themselves.

“How about something lighter?” Kurt asked, “maybe something I can sing to?”

Blaine smiled and nodded, which was of course exactly what Kurt had expected. He started playing the accompaniment to Billy Joel’s “Just The Way You Are,” a piece they had sung together many times since high school. He knew it was a little on the nose given their current situation, but by the expression on Blaine’s face, the thought was appreciated. Blaine had never been one to mind a cheesy performance.

As Kurt got near the end of the song, he realized that Blaine was humming along with him, and he nearly fell off the piano bench. When he reached the final stanza and sang _I said I love you, and that’s forever,_ and then Blaine hummed the responsive _and that’s forever_ as if they were singing it back in the loft, surrounded by their friends, he thought his heart would beat right out of his chest. Kurt managed to go on, Blaine humming along as Kurt sang the last few phrases. _And this I promise from the heart. I couldn’t love you any better, I love you just the way you are._

Kurt finished off the song with a flourish, and then turned to Blaine. He was looking down at his lap, but smiling broadly. “That was great,” Kurt said softly, brushing a kiss to Blaine’s cheek. “Want to do another one?”

Clearly love songs were the way to go, Kurt thought as he wracked his mind for something that Blaine would like to sing along to, and which Kurt actually knew how to play. 

“This should work,” Kurt said, finally settling on “All You Need Is Love.” As he began playing the intro to the French national anthem which formed the beginning of the song, he could see Blaine grinning next to him. It was actually a complicated song to play, with its asymmetric time signature and complex chord modulations, but Kurt figured that if he had to just coast along with the melody from time to time, Blaine would forgive him.

Soon after Kurt started singing, Blaine began humming along. They made it through most of the song that way, trading meaningful looks at each other from time to time. As Kurt got to the end and started singing “he loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah” just as Blaine had done when he proposed, he heard it; Blaine was singing it too. Singing the actual words, the first words he had said out loud in almost three years.

Kurt finished playing and was trying to decide whether to say something to Blaine about how ridiculously good it was to hear his voice when Blaine surprised him again, taking his face in his hands and planting a kiss directly on his lips. It was warm, and sweet, and so very full of love. Kurt melted into it, the first real kiss he had shared with Blaine in an unimaginable amount of time, and all the more precious for it. To top it all off, when Blaine ended the kiss, he leaned his forehead against Kurt’s, and whispered ever so softly, “love you.”

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and held him tight, not wanting the moment to end. “Love you too, sweetheart. Love you too.”


	6. Chapter 6

Jenny looked up from the table where she was sitting with Blaine as Kurt came in to the room. “Hi, Kurt!” she said cheerfully, her ponytail swinging as she turned her head. “Still hot out there?” she asked.

“Ridiculously hot,” Kurt said, putting his messenger bag down and going into the bathroom to wash his face. “I think my boss felt bad for me when it was time to leave – everyone else is working late just to take advantage of the super-powered air conditioning in the office.” Kurt came back to the table and gave Blaine a quick hug. “Hi, sweetie. Sorry if I stink.”

Blaine smiled and shook his head. He didn’t say anything, which wasn’t unusual. Even though he had spoken to Kurt on Saturday when they were at the piano, since then he had been decidedly reticent. A few words slipped out here and there, but other than that, not a lot of talking was going on. Dr. Kamali had assured Kurt that this was normal, and he shouldn’t pressure him or draw too much focus to it. 

Apparently Jenny hadn’t gotten the message, however. “Isn’t it awesome how Blaine is talking now? I asked him how you guys met, and he told me it was in high school,” she said as she stood up. “Pretty romantic. I wish I would meet my one true love.”

Blaine blushed. 

“We were lucky.” Kurt sat down in the chair Jenny had vacated and took Blaine’s hand in his. “We had our rough spots, but we made it through. Got married before we were old enough to buy our own champagne, and haven’t looked back.”

“Didn’t people say you were too young?”

Blaine made a noise that sounded like he was choking, and Kurt patted him on the back fondly. “Yeah, they did. I even said it once. But when you know, you know.” He turned to Blaine and held his gaze, marveling once again at how very fortunate he had been to have found Blaine, and how lucky he was now to have him back in his life. “And I always knew you were the one for me.” Kurt pressed a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips, then jumped back when Jenny cleared her throat.

“Um, sorry to interrupt, but I just need to do a couple things before I leave,” Jenny said, picking up her clipboard and making some notes, then gathering up a folder from the dresser. “All done, now I’ll get out of your hair. Enjoy your night,” she said, giggling as she left the room.

“So what did you tell Jenny?” Kurt asked, hoping the open ended question would generate a more lengthy response from Blaine than just a head shake or a nod. 

But Blaine just smiled and looked down at his lap. 

“That I brought you to life, your teenage dream?” Kurt asked lightly.

Blaine smiled again and looked up through his long lashes at Kurt. “Maybe.” 

“It is wonderful to hear your voice,” Kurt said, not able to resist. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but honestly, it’s like the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Cheesecake for your ears?” Blaine asked softly, his smile growing.

“Hey, you said you’d never bring that up again!” Kurt exclaimed, his face growing warm.

Years ago, during a memorable night out with friends where way too many margaritas were consumed, Blaine had sang a beautiful jazz piece to Kurt. Trying to find a way to describe just how wonderful Blaine sounded, Kurt had told Blaine triumphantly that his voice was like “cheesecake for my ears.” Kurt had just about decided that Blaine was too drunk to remember it, when Santana and Brittany came over the next morning for brunch. They hadn’t had as much to drink as Kurt and Blaine had the night before, and apparently remembered all of it. Kurt’s heart sank when he saw what they had brought for dessert.

“Just don’t put it in your ears, Kurt,” Brittany had whispered to him. “It actually doesn’t taste very good that way.”

For Blaine to mention this now, however, was golden. He didn’t seem phased by Kurt’s admonition – in fact, his grin just got wider. 

“Fine, say whatever you want.” The words came out, and Kurt huffed out a laugh. “I mean it. You can tell everyone we meet that I love you so much, I lose all power of rational thought. It’s okay with me. It’s more than okay.”

They just stared at each other for a moment, Kurt’s cheesy grin matching Blaine’s, until the spell was broken by Kurt’s stomach rumbling.

“Oh, sorry! I kind of skipped lunch. It was too hot to go outside, and I was trying to get everything done so I could get over here.” Kurt had adjusted his work schedule from half time to about seventy percent time, now that Blaine was doing better. He still managed to get over to the center by three or four o’clock every weekday. He felt badly about not getting to spend more time with Blaine, but it was a busy time at work, and as much as he knew Isabelle loved him, she had a department to run. Kurt was afraid that if he couldn’t fill the role, she might find someone else who could, and he didn’t want to lose this job.

Blaine just looked at Kurt expectantly, and Kurt easily continued the conversation. “I was thinking we’d get something delivered? You should pick this time, we can get whatever you want.” Most nights if Kurt was at the center around dinnertime he shared Blaine’s meal and supplemented it with some food for them both that he brought from home; it was too expensive to order in every time. But since Blaine had been feeling better, they had been getting take out about once a week, and given how hungry Kurt was tonight, food from the center’s kitchen was not going to cut it.

“What would you like? Have you been craving anything?”

Blaine’s eyes fluttered to Kurt and then away again, and he bit his lip. 

“Is it something you think I won’t want? Honestly, I’ll eat anything tonight. This is a not a time to diet.”

Still no response from Blaine. 

Kurt shifted in his chair to try to catch his eye. “Sweetheart, what is it? I’m not trying to trick you or anything, I just want to know what you want for dinner.”

Blaine turned to Kurt, an embarrassed look on his face. “I know, I just can’t…”

_Oh._ “You can’t find the word?”

Blaine nodded, looking down at where he had clenched his hands together on his lap.

“Hey, it’s okay. Dr. Kamali said that’s totally normal. We talked about this, remember? It’s just a form of mild aphasia. The more you speak, and read, and sing, the easier it will get to find the words you want.” Kurt put his hands over Blaine’s, aching for him. “It’s frustrating, but it’s nothing to worry about, okay?”

Blaine looked up at Kurt, a determined look on his face. “Okay.”

“All right, so, dinner options. We could get pizza, subs, sushi…”

“Satays, can we get satays?” Blaine blurted out, looking relieved at having found something to say to get his point across.

“Thai food? Sure, I haven’t had Thai in ages, and it’s perfect for a hot day.” 

*****  
A little while later, just as they were finishing up their dinner, Michael stopped by to say hello. He worked with a number of patients at the center, but Kurt liked to think that Blaine was his favorite. He happily accepted their offer of some satays and spring rolls, but declined the spicy green curry.

“Come on, you won’t even try it?” Kurt teased, but Michael just shook his head.

“Spicy food doesn’t agree with me. And I’ve got a standing date with my wife on Wednesday nights. We even get a babysitter. If I’m feeling too sick to, um, enjoy myself” – he waggled his eyebrows at them – “she’ll never forgive me.”

They chatted for a few more minutes – or, rather, Kurt and Michael chatted, and Blaine followed along – and then Michael headed out to see his last patient, leaving the room rather quieter than it had been. Kurt shot a look at Blaine and grinned. “I wonder what Michael’s wife is like.”

Blaine just looked at him curiously.

“You know, does she have a great big personality like he does, or is she more calm, complementary?” 

Blaine shrugged, then held his hand out on the table, palm up. 

Kurt took it in his. “We complement each other,” he said confidently.

Blaine nodded, smiling, his eyes wide with contentment.

Kurt slowly leaned forward and put a hand on Blaine’s cheek, then pressed a kiss to his lips. He tasted of peanut sauce and curry, and he was delicious. Kurt moved closer, keeping the kiss going even longer than the few more-than-a-peck moments they had shared recently, and tried to judge Blaine’s reaction. He was dying for Blaine to grab his neck and kiss him passionately, but it seemed that they weren’t quite there yet.

Not willing to give up entirely, Kurt broke off the kiss, but kept his face right up against Blaine’s. “You taste so good,” he said, his voice low. “And I don’t just mean the Thai food.” 

And then Blaine’s lips were pressing against his again, and it hadn’t been Kurt that initiated it, it was Blaine. And Blaine’s hand was there, just touching his waist, reaching out for another connection. Before Kurt could even lose himself in it Blaine pulled back, but he was smiling softly and looking rather proud of himself. Kurt counted it a win.

*****  
One advantage of being unconscious for almost three years was that there was a lot of good television Blaine still hadn’t seen. Wes had made that point when he stopped by to visit last week, and Kurt had wanted to slug him. But Blaine had just grinned, proving once again that he and Kurt were not, in fact, exactly the same, especially when it came to their sense of humor. Kurt still blamed Sam for instilling a particular brand of frat boy humor in Blaine, although come to think of it, his frat boy mannerisms were quite entertaining at times. Maybe he should actually thank Sam. 

These ridiculous thoughts and others were running through Kurt’s head as he set them up in bed that night, his laptop propped on the overbed table. This piece of hospital furniture was pretty much worth its weight in gold for watching movies together, and if it didn’t reek so much of illness, Kurt might have bought one for the apartment. He even checked them out online one night; Amazon had a bunch of them, including ones specially designed for laptops. Late night shopping habits died hard.

Tonight they were marathoning _Orange is the New Black,_ but they had barely gotten through one episode before Blaine was asleep, snoring softly against Kurt’s chest. Blaine was in his pajamas, gray striped sleep pants and a purple NYU t-shirt that was soft from numerous washings. At least Blaine was able to dress himself now, something that Kurt knew was a huge relief to him. The staff still tended to want to help, but Blaine had figured out that if he changed his clothes in the morning before they came by, he could escape their generally well-meaning but constantly embarrassing attention. 

Unfortunately Blaine still needed help moving between his bed and the wheelchair, or any other location, and his legs weren’t strong enough to walk on his own yet. Michael assured them both that Blaine was improving steadily, and that with time and therapy he’d keep improving. But no one was promising them that Blaine would walk again. Years of disuse had taken their toll on Blaine’s body, and Kurt knew that Michael wasn’t going to make a promise that he couldn’t keep.

After their Thai food dinner that night, Kurt had caught Michael in the hallway, and asked him to be blunt about Blaine’s chances for recovering full mobility.

“Blaine works hard in therapy, and he is making continued improvement,” Michael said. “As long as he keeps getting stronger, there’s no reason to think he won’t be able to keep getting stronger. Does that make any sense?”

Kurt frowned. “So you won’t know that he’s gone as far as he can go until he gets there?”

Michael nodded. “Kind of. I mean, don’t get me wrong – he could plateau for a while and then make further improvements. This isn’t something I can tell you for sure either way.”

“Blaine is so disappointed in himself, though. Is it even reasonable for him to expect to be walking already?”

Michael looked pensive. “I really can’t answer that. Everyone is different. This isn’t a mental problem; it’s not a brain injury problem. It’s just his muscles, his physical body. Whatever condition he’s in, that’s where he is. There’s no point in wishing it were otherwise.”

Kurt got the feeling that Michael was leaving something out. “Should Blaine have been getting more physical therapy while he was in a coma? Would that have made his recovery easier?” He had hoped to never ask this question, but he was starting to feel like it was the elephant in the room.

Michael looked at Kurt apologetically. “Yes, it would have made his recovery easier. But my understanding is that no one expected Blaine to wake up. And in that situation, his doctors might not have written the order for therapy.”

“They would have thought it was a waste of time,” Kurt said under his breath.

But Michael heard him. “Exactly. But Kurt,” Michael put a hand on Kurt’s arm, and tugged to make sure he was looking at him, “You can’t beat yourself up about this. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, they would have been right.”

Now, lying here in bed with Blaine, Kurt ran over Michael’s words again. It wasn’t news to Kurt that therapy during the time Blaine was unconscious would have helped prevent his muscles from atrophying. Anyone with internet access could find that out. And he and Pam had talked about it, right from the start, making sure that Blaine had as much care as they could arrange for him. But as the months went by, and Blaine showed no sign of waking up, they had both given in to the doctors who suggested that it was, as Kurt had said to Michael, a waste of time. Pam had agreed first, saying something about leaving Blaine in peace, and Kurt had been too zoned out with grief and hopelessness to argue. They had cut back his therapy to just a few times a week, and who knows what had happened when Kurt left on tour. But Kurt couldn’t help but think that as a result of that decision, Blaine was struggling, and might never walk again.

Kurt dragged his thoughts back to the present as Blaine stirred. He opened his eyes and smiled up at Kurt. “Hi,” he said softly, snapping Kurt out of his pity party. 

“Hi, beautiful,” Kurt said, making Blaine blush. “You are, you know,” he went on, pushing an unruly curl off Blaine’s forehead, and watching with pleasure as his long eyelashes fluttered. 

“’m not,” Blaine mumbled, hiding his face against Kurt’s shirt.

“You are,” Kurt insisted. “There’s nothing wrong with your body, Blaine. Your color’s back, you’re putting on weight, and thanks to the fact that they now let me shampoo your hair correctly, your curls are back to their former lustrous shine.”

Blaine clearly didn’t agree with Kurt’s assessment. “My legs look funny.”

Kurt pushed aside his astonishment that Blaine was actually talking about this, instead of just cringing in embarrassment, and addressed the subject head-on. “Let’s look at them.” He sat up, pulling Blaine with him, and moved the table with his laptop out of the way. But when he started to push up the legs of Blaine’s pajamas, Blaine stopped him with a hand on his.

“Kurt, no.”

“I’ve seen your legs, Blaine. Numerous times. This isn’t the era when the sight of a shapely ankle would make a man swoon.”

Blaine just looked down, keeping his hand pressed against Kurt’s.

“Come on, honey, what are you afraid of? At least the hair grew back.”

Blaine huffed out a laugh at this; for a while the hair on his legs was strangely thin, possibly due to the air casts they had put on his legs to keep them in position while he was unconscious. He relented and let go of Kurt’s hand. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing much,” Kurt said. He wasn’t actually sure what he was doing, he was just improvising. But he had a feeling, and he was going with it. He knelt on the bed and put a hand gently on one of Blaine’s bare feet, then slid his hand up his calf, pushing his pant leg up to his knee, then repeated the motion with Blaine’s other leg.

“Your calves look perfectly normal,” Kurt said objectively, keeping a hand on each of Blaine’s legs. Blaine pushed himself up on his hands, bending his knees a little as he sat up to follow Kurt’s gaze. “A little pale, I suppose.”

Kurt pushed Blaine’s pants up a little further, and examined his husband’s bony knees. “What do you think?” Kurt asked Blaine, who just shrugged. “I’m not sure I’ve ever really studied your knees before,” Kurt said with a smile. “You’ve got a little scar on this one,” he said, pointing to a tiny line on the side of Blaine’s right knee.

“Bicycle accident,” Blaine said. “Cooper’s fault.”

“Why am I not surprised…” Kurt started to push Blaine’s pajama pants up further, then thought better of it. The material was already bunched up over his knees, and somehow groping his husband’s upper thighs didn’t seem appropriate in this context. He set his hands gently just above Blaine’s knees and looked up at him. “Move your legs a little?”

Blaine frowned, but obediently let one leg slide down to the bed, then the other, then bent his knees back up again. Kurt could feel Blaine’s muscles flexing under his hands. Blaine had always had such strong, muscular thighs, but they were significantly skinnier now. “Is this what’s bothering you?” Kurt asked, watching Blaine’s face as he gently circled his fingers around Blaine’s thighs.

Blaine shrugged, his eyes downcast. “When I look in the mirror… I look different.”

Kurt nodded in agreement. “I look different too, you know. We got older.” As difficult as it was for Blaine to hear, there really was no escaping it.

Blaine swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Kurt sat back on his heels and pulled Blaine’s pajama pants back down his legs. “Well, I think your legs look great. You’ve been working hard in therapy, and you’re getting better all the time. If you’re really concerned about definition in your thighs, let’s mention it to Michael – I bet he can add some exercises to address it. What do you say?”

“Okay,” Blaine said, looked relieved. He glanced over to the laptop. “Another episode?”

“Oh no, we’re not done,” Kurt said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Blaine raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Nope. We haven’t gone over my favorite parts yet.”

Blaine flushed. “You are not examining my ass. My ass is fine.”

“Yes, it certainly is,” Kurt said with a smirk.

“Oh my god, Kurt!” Blaine turned away and hid his face in the pillow, then realized this pretty much put his ass right in Kurt’s face, and scrambled to try to pull the blanket up over himself.

“Hey, calm down,” Kurt said gently, stretching out next to Blaine and running a hand down over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to tease you. That wasn’t the point of this.”

Blaine flopped back towards Kurt. “I know. I just don’t feel…”

Kurt nodded. “I get it. But let me continue, okay?” Blaine didn’t respond, but he kept his eyes on Kurt, so he went on. “Your shoulders are just as broad and lovely as ever,” he said, sitting up a bit and placing a hand on each of Blaine’s shoulders. He moved his hands down Blaine’s arms. “You’ve added quite a bit of definition to your biceps – clearly you are just naturally gifted in this area.” 

Blaine smiled bashfully, and Kurt couldn’t help leaning in for a quick peck to Blaine’s lips. He knew Blaine had asked Michael for extra things he could do to recover muscle strength in his arms – the hand weights on the dresser also gave it away. 

Kurt let his hands rest on either side of Blaine’s torso. “Your waist is as tiny as ever-”

“’S not. Squishy.”

“Ok, first, you’re wrong. You honestly are no different here than approximately 50% of the time that I’ve known you.” Freshman year at NYADA hadn’t been the last time that Blaine had freaked out over gaining a few pounds; his weight tended to go in cycles, and he never did get over feeling insecure about it. “And second, if you feel like dieting yourself into submission when you are able to move around more, then go for it.” Kurt put a hand to Blaine’s cheek, making him look him in the eye. “Sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with how you look. You are beautiful.”

Kurt ran his hands slowly up from his waist, over his chest, enjoying the feel of Blaine’s warm body through the soft cotton t-shirt. His fingers caught on a nipple and Blaine jumped, his eyes going wide and stunned, almost as if he wasn’t sure if it was okay to be enjoying this exercise.

“Sorry, sorry.” Kurt quickly took his hands off Blaine’s chest but leaned back down against his side, taking one of Blaine’s hands in his and holding it close. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But I love you so much, every part of you. I missed you.” Blaine’s eyes were growing wet, and Kurt wasn’t sure if he had taken a wrong turn, but he pressed on. “I know you’re not ready for anything right now, I do know that, I promise. But I also need you to understand that when you are ready, I’ll be right there waiting. You are my wonderful, beautiful, incredibly sexy husband. I am as ridiculously attracted to you as when we were teenagers, and you deserve to know that. Okay?”

Blaine nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. “Okay.” He closed his eyes and dug his face into Kurt’s neck. “Thank you,” he said, his words muffled against Kurt’s skin. “I think I… I needed to hear that.”

Kurt scooted an arm under Blaine and pulled him until he was mostly lying on his own chest, Kurt’s arms wrapped snugly around him, holding him close. “You’re welcome.” He stroked Blaine’s back, feeling his muscles relax and his breath even out as he fell back asleep. If nothing else, this evening’s conversation only proved that Blaine was still Blaine. No matter how obvious it seemed to Kurt -- and pretty much everyone in the universe that ever met him -- that Blaine was worthy of admiration, he still needed to be reassured of Kurt’s love for him, maybe now more than ever.


	7. Chapter 7

“You have to tell him, Kurt,” Wes said insistently. “I know it’s going to suck, but you have to.” They were sitting in a back corner at the diner, nursing milkshakes and a serving of sweet potato fries. Kurt had agreed to meet Wes here after his daily visit with Blaine, but right now he was wishing he had just gone home and straight to bed.

Kurt still hadn’t told Blaine about his mother’s death. At first he was genuinely worried about upsetting him, especially when he couldn’t be sure how much Blaine understood about what was going on around him. Then he told Wes (over far too many glasses of white wine – Wes had a nice collection of expensive bottles, but a hangover is a hangover) that he wanted to wait until Blaine could speak again, so that he could communicate with Kurt about it, and not be locked in with his grief. Wes hadn’t thought that was a very convincing argument, but he caved eventually, telling Kurt that since he was the one that was going to have to deal with the fall-out, he was more than willing to let Kurt make the final decision.

But now apparently there were legal papers to sign – since Blaine was awake, and competent, his mother’s estate would be adjusted accordingly. Blaine had given Wes permission to act as his attorney when he had visited a few days ago, and Wes had been gathering the necessary information to start the process moving along. But he needed Blaine to approve and sign off on the documents, and for that, he had to be told the truth.

“I got him a phone,” Kurt said finally.

“Can I assume that isn’t a complete non-sequitor and you’re going to explain why a phone is relevant here?”

Kurt sighed. “It might help. If he’s too mad at me after I tell him, he can call someone else. Cooper, maybe, or you.”

“Cooper? You really think he’s going to be useful in this situation?”

“Damn it, Wes, I don’t know. But Cooper’s his brother, maybe he’d like to talk to him about their mother being dead. God knows I wish I had a brother to talk to.”

Wes frowned, but kept his steady gaze on Kurt. “As much as I’m sympathetic to your losses, Kurt, I don’t think it’s a fair comparison. Cooper hasn’t so much as called you to check on Blaine since we spoke to him about turning over guardianship.”

“What, so you want me to delete his number from the phone?”

“No, no, calm down. I just meant that you can’t rely on him to support Blaine right now. That’s your job.”

“But he’s going to be so mad at me,” Kurt said sadly. “And I know there’s not going to be anything I can do to help him when he learns that his mom is dead.”

“What did he do to help you when Finn died?” Wes asked.

Kurt sucked in a deep breath, his throat tightening up. “Nothing. Everything. He was just… there with me.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do for him.”

*****

The next day they were sitting at the little table in Blaine’s room. Blaine was seated in the regular chair, having wobbled hesitantly across the small space from the bed to the table with Kurt’s help, and Kurt was in the wheelchair. The fact that they needed another chair in the room had been mentioned to the staff several times, so far to no avail. 

Blaine’s brand new iPhone was on the table in front of them, and Blaine was staring at it as if it was an alien weapon.

“I had to get you a new one, but you’ll love it. It’s got all kinds of cool features.” Time and Apple wait for no man, Kurt thought. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have your old phone,” Kurt continued, “but luckily you had everything backed up.” And even more luckily, I hung on to your computer, Kurt thought. “I put all your music on it, and a bunch of pictures, too.”

“Thanks,” Blaine said softly, still staring at it.

Kurt picked it up and swiped it on. “Want to set up the thumbprint logon?” he asked, and went through the steps with Blaine, watching as Blaine pressed his thumb successfully to the button. Way to work therapy into the evening, Kurt thought wryly to himself. Of course, the whole phone project was therapy, as using it was going to require a good deal of small motor coordination, but Michael had assured Kurt that Blaine was ready for it.

Kurt took the phone back from Blaine, and scrolled through several different screens. “I updated your contacts, and called myself a bunch of times so it would go in your favorites,” he said, showing Blaine the screen. Then he went back to the home screen and handed the phone to Blaine. “Do you want to see if you can call me?”

Blaine gave Kurt a vaguely annoyed look. Setting the phone down on the table, he deliberately pressed the phone icon, and then found Kurt’s number and touched it. A moment later, they heard the “da-da-da-dum snap snap” opening notes of the Addams family theme song and Blaine chuckled, which had of course been the entire point of making the silly song Kurt’s ringtone. 

“Okay, so you’ve mastered cellphones 101. Good job.” Kurt gave Blaine a quick kiss on the cheek. “And don’t worry, I’m not keeping that ringtone. It was just for effect.”

“It worked,” Blaine said, his mouth twitching in a little smile. He picked up the phone and looked through his contacts, his right hand trembling slightly. Kurt wondered if Blaine noticed the absence of his mother’s entry. It was now or never.

“Blaine, I’ve got to tell you something.”

Blaine put the phone down carefully on the table and clutched his hands together in his lap. 

“Blaine,” Kurt shifted in the wheelchair, wishing he had waited until they were somewhere more comfortable, where could put his arms more easily around Blaine. And what was he going to do if Blaine got upset now – how would he get him back into bed? 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before, but there was no good time to tell you, and I didn’t want to upset you, not when you have been through so much, and now it’s going to seem like I was keeping things from you, and I swear I wasn’t…” Kurt looked up to see Blaine staring at him, his eyes wide. “It’s not good news, I’m so sorry, Blaine, but…”

“I know.”

Kurt paused, his rambling apology forgotten. “You know…?”

“My mom’s dead.”

Kurt froze, his chest feeling uncomfortably tight. “You do know. Blaine, I’m so sorry,” he said again, uselessly. 

Blaine’s eyes teared up, and he seemed to shrink into himself. “So it’s true?”

Oh god, this was even worse than Kurt had expected. Blaine had been wondering this whole time. “It’s true.” He perched awkwardly on the edge of the wheelchair’s seat and wrapped his arms around Blaine. “I’m so sorry. How did you find out?”

Blaine pulled back, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. Kurt kept a hold of his shoulder, not wanting him to lose his balance and slide off. “I heard someone say it. A while ago. Not here.”

Not here? “Blaine,” Kurt asked shakily, not really wanting to know the answer. “Do you remember the place you were before this one?”

Blaine looked away, and when he spoke, it was even softer than usual. “Yeah. Not much. I was cold, and… confused. There was a woman who would talk to me sometimes.” He took a deep breath, squeezing his lips together; this was a lot of words for Blaine. “I thought at first she was my mother, but she was probably just a nurse.”

Kurt didn’t think this conversation could get any more painful. “Blaine, I’m so sorry…” he said again.

“No, it’s okay,” Blaine said quickly, turning back to Kurt. “I didn’t know what was going on. I’d hear something, and then, I don’t know, be asleep again. I was really out of it.” He paused, biting his lip. “I get why you didn’t tell me when it happened. I wouldn’t have understood.”

_He doesn’t realize I wasn’t around,_ Kurt thought. _He doesn’t realize I didn’t know when his mother died, or when he was waking up._ Kurt felt sick, and stood up abruptly, the wheelchair pushing back behind him.

“Can we go for a walk or something? Get some ice cream?” Kurt suggested, as if this was something they did every day, and not an entirely new activity for his still-recovering and presently rather timid husband.

Blaine blinked up at him, a little thrown by the change in subject, but apparently still well enough attuned to Kurt’s moods to realize Kurt needed a moment to process, outside the confines of the little room. “Sure.” 

*****  
The staff at the center had been less than amused when Kurt signed them out at the front desk, announcing that they had decided to go for a late-night ice cream run. Pushing the wheelchair along the city sidewalks was harder than Kurt had anticipated, but he soldiered on until they got to a half-decent ice cream parlour. If Blaine was brave enough to let Kurt take him on a poorly thought out outing, Kurt was at least going to get him a decent dessert as a reward. 

They got their ice cream to go – a double scoop of coffee and salted caramel with hot fudge for Blaine, and raspberry sherbet for Kurt – and Kurt pushed Blaine down the street until they found a little park. Kurt helped Blaine out of the wheelchair and on to an empty bench, then joined him, pressed close against his side. It was dark out now, but still warm from the heat of the summer day. They ate their ice cream in silence, sitting back and listening to the sounds of the people around them.

“I really am sorry about your mom, Blaine,” Kurt said finally. “She was a good person, and she loved you very much.”

Blaine nodded sadly. “I wish I could see her again. I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Kurt got up to throw their empty ice cream dishes in a trash can, and then returned to Blaine, putting his arm around his shoulder and pulling him close against his side. It occurred to Kurt that sitting on this bench was kind of like riding in a car at night – they could stare out at the people walking by, and not have to look at each other while they were talking, cocooned in the warm, dark air. It made it a little easier, somehow, not to have to see the pain on Blaine’s face as he spoke about his mother, telling a story Kurt had heard a million times before about how she always wanted to get him a particular kind of birthday cake from a bakery in Westerville, and it had gone on for years before Blaine finally had the nerve to tell her that he didn’t actually love carrot cake all that much. It was more words than Blaine had said at one go since he had started speaking again, as if something inside him had relaxed now that he actually knew the truth.

Blaine’s head had fallen to Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt was rubbing his thumb soothingly over Blaine’s collarbone. Blaine’s hair was soft against Kurt’s chin, his curls frizzing in the humid evening air.

“Have you talked to my dad?” Blaine asked.

“No,” Kurt said simply. Blaine’s parents’ divorce had been finalized during his first year at NYU, and then Graham had moved away from Ohio, first to Albuquerque and then to somewhere in Arizona. They hadn’t seen him after that, although he had sent a huge bouquet of flowers and a check for Blaine’s college graduation. It really wasn’t the same as being there.

“Does he know what happened to me?” Blaine asked softly.

“Yeah. Your mom told him. And Cooper is apparently in touch with him now.” Kurt resisted telling Blaine how he felt when Blaine’s dad hadn’t even come to visit after the accident. He realized now that Graham’s reaction was a lot like Cooper’s – there was no point in coming to visit, since Blaine was in a coma; he wouldn’t know the difference, so why bother. Apparently he hadn’t considered that maybe the people who loved Blaine and weren’t unconscious might need some support. Not that Graham was very good at that kind of thing, anyway.

Blaine nodded, leaning harder into Kurt. Kurt took his hand and threaded their fingers together, keeping his other arm securely around Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine didn’t need him to explain his father’s ways, he was all too familiar with them.

“He kept sending birthday cards, though.” Kurt said, almost as an afterthought. It was weird to keep getting mail addressed to Blaine after the accident. Most of the relevant stuff trailed off after a while, but some of it continued to come, advertising events and alumni get-togethers that Blaine would never attend.

“How many?” Blaine whispered, so softly that Kurt almost didn’t catch it. Fuck. He’s trying to figure out how old he is, Kurt thought.

“Three. You’re 25, I’m 26. It’s 2020.”

Blaine didn’t say anything in response. There wasn’t much to say, Kurt supposed. Blaine knew that he had been unconscious for almost three years, but it was a lot to take in. It seemed to hit him over and over each time something new came up, and Blaine realized again that three years of his life had passed by without his knowledge or participation. Kurt held Blaine tightly against him, rocking him a little. _It’s okay, I’m here,_ he thought to himself. _There might not be much I can do, but for what’s it’s worth, I’m here._

“I missed so much,” Blaine, his voice cracking. “I missed your birthdays, too.”

“That’s okay, they weren’t that great,” Kurt said, trying to keep his voice light but failing miserably. 

“Are your parents okay?” Blaine asked, sending another pang of guilt through Kurt. Burt and Carole had been pressing Kurt to let them come visit Blaine, ever since he told them he was awake. But Kurt had put them off, not wanting their presence to trigger a question from Blaine about his mother.

“Yeah, they’re actually doing well. They’re dying to see you, too.”

“They are?” The surprised look on Blaine’s face made Kurt vow to look up airfares just as soon as he got home tonight.

“Of course they are. They missed you, too.”

Blaine nodded, although he didn’t seem entirely convinced. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, the same way Kurt always did when he was thinking. “When did I last see my mom?”

“You mean, before the accident? You were staying with her, and then before that, graduation.” Kurt shifted to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Do you want to see pictures?”

Blaine nodded, and sat up a little, turning towards Kurt. 

“I put all of these on your phone, too,” Kurt explained, finding the pictures he was looking for, beginning with a big group picture of Blaine with friends and family. He let Blaine scroll through, and saw him pause on one of just him and his mom, Pam elegant in an orange linen jacket, white slacks, and high heels, her long brown hair falling in waves over her shoulders. She was gazing at Blaine in his graduation robe with a look of immense pride, and Blaine was beaming like the sun.

“I remember this,” Blaine said. “She told me she knew I could do it, despite all the mess with NYADA. She always said I could do anything I wanted to.”

“And you can.”

Blaine scrolled to the next picture. In it he and some of his classmates were goofing around, Kurt and his mother off to the side. Kurt was looking fondly at his husband, while Pam had an almost wistful expression on her face.

Suddenly Blaine went pale and lurched forward, vomiting up his ice cream, and Kurt almost dropped his phone as he grabbed at Blaine’s arm to keep him from falling off the seat. Blaine coughed and sputtered, then sagged back against the back of the bench. “Hey, it’s okay,” Kurt said automatically, rubbing Blaine’s shoulder until he calmed. “Hold on….” Kurt rummaged in his bag until he found a half-empty bottle of water. “Here, have a drink.”

Blaine shakily rinsed his mouth out, and accepted a tissue from Kurt to wipe his face. “I’m sorry… I just… it all kind of hit me. I’m never going to see her again… She’s not going to come visit. I can’t call her to say hi. We won’t see her at Christmas… Is my house even still ours?” 

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t know.” His heart ached at how lost Blaine sounded. He took Blaine in his arms and pulled him to his chest. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist, digging his face into Kurt’s neck. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” Kurt said. “So very much. I know you’re hurting, and there’s not much I can do to help. But if you think of anything, just let me know. Whether you do or not, I’ll be here.”

Blaine just squeezed Kurt tighter, pressing himself as close as he could, as if he wanted to merge right into Kurt’s body. 

“It’s okay, Blaine,” Kurt said firmly, running his hands up and down the planes of Blaine’s back. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	8. Chapter 8

**From Blaine:**   
**Pls tell me why ur upset**

Kurt should have been more excited about Blaine texting him. Although he had brought him his phone almost a week ago, Blaine had seemed reluctant to use it to text. Between his on-again off-again shaking hands, and his mild but rapidly improving aphasia that sometimes made it difficult to find the word he wanted to use, Kurt understood that texting might not be his favorite thing.

But clearly nothing was wrong with Blaine's ability to read Kurt. 

The days went by and Kurt found himself unwilling to suggest that Blaine call Cooper, or actually schedule a visit with his parents, or connect with any of their friends, really, except for Wes, because when it came right down to it, Kurt was worried about what they might tell Blaine about the past three years. He knew how wrong this was, and his guilt was becoming unbearable. It was keeping him up at night, and distracting him even when he was with Blaine at the center, and Blaine could clearly tell that something was wrong.

Up until recently Kurt had been able to push aside his concerns about whether he had done the right thing, and what Blaine might think when he learned how Kurt had let Pam take over guardianship. The only important things had been that Kurt had found Blaine and was getting him on the path to recovery. But now the other shoe was about to drop, and Kurt was petrified.

Unfortunately, he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to admit it to Blaine.

**From Kurt:**   
**I'm not upset. But I’m glad to hear from you.**

It took a while for Blaine to respond, and Kurt thought he might be off the hook.

**From Blaine:**   
**Don't do this. Just tell me. Don't keep things from me.**

And then, before Kurt could reply:

**From Blaine:**   
**I won't break.**

Fuck. Blaine wasn't going to be deterred. And it hurt that Blaine was right, and that he was so certain about the fact that Kurt wasn’t being completely honest about his feelings. Blaine had said that he wasn’t mad at him for not telling him about his mother’s death sooner, but maybe that hadn’t been the truth, either. Unable to hold it in, Kurt responded, defending himself.

**From Kurt:**   
**Are you sure you don't want to say don't keep _more_ things from you? **

**From Blaine:**   
**R u pissed at me? That's not fair.**

Kurt just barely resisted typing back something snarky along the lines of yeah, well, life's not fair. He made himself count slowly to twenty before he responded.

**From Kurt:**   
**I'm sorry. Can we talk about this when I come over?**

**From Blaine:**   
**If u don’t tell me I won't share the candy Rachel brought. Gummy bears _and_ candy raspberries. **

Double fuck. When had Rachel been there, and what did she say to Blaine? This conversation needed to end now, because nothing good was going to come of Kurt screwing it up any further. 

**From Kurt:**   
**I promise I’ll come clean. I love you, by the way, so very much. Any chance you'd agree to delete this text exchange?**

**From Blaine:**   
**????**

**From Kurt:**   
**I had hoped our first texts to each other this time around would be even better than "Courage." Maybe along the lines of "thinking of u <3" or "what r u wearing?" **

Kurt hoped this might let them leave the conversation on a lighter note. Plus he kind of meant it.

**From Blaine:**   
**Courage was a classic.**

Kurt set his phone down and sighed. In addition to everything else, he was a little disappointed that Blaine didn't respond very positively to his attempt at flirting. He was rusty, he knew, and he understood that it was probably hard for Blaine to feel sexy right now when his muscles still weren’t cooperating. But he really wouldn’t mind some indication that Blaine was still interested in him _that_ way.

Kurt was also more than a little nervous about Blaine’s determined mood. Blaine could be as stubborn as Kurt was when something really mattered to him, and, not surprisingly, Kurt’s recent behavior fell squarely into that category. Blaine had actually gotten much better at standing up to Kurt over the years, both of them spending a lot of time in the beginning of their marriage dissecting what had gone wrong, and what they could do to fix it in the future. But Kurt had rarely seen this type of assertive behavior from Blaine since he woke up. 

He knew it was good that Blaine was pushing him, that otherwise he might just revert to old habits that had never served them well. He had always been so scared of opening himself up completely to anyone, and Blaine was the rare person who Kurt had managed, with great effort, to let in. But Kurt was frankly terrified of telling him about what he had done – and hadn’t done – over the past few years, letting Blaine out of his sight, and out of his control, and failing to be there when he woke up. He was so afraid that Blaine wouldn’t forgive him. And Kurt didn’t know if he could survive that.

****

Kurt frowned, sending a quick text to Blaine to let him know he was going to be late – Isabelle had been panicking about the set up for an evening event that was going off the rails, and when she spotted Kurt packing up he just couldn’t abandon her. That, and he was in full-on avoidance mode, dreading his conversation with Blaine.

Blaine responded with a neutral “okay,” and Kurt sighed. He couldn’t very well be annoyed at Blaine for _not_ being upset that he was going to be late, now, could he? This was getting into dangerous passive-aggressive territory in Kurt-and-Blaine relationship land, and he needed to cut it out.

After work he made a quick stop at home, fixing his hair and changing into a fresh shirt. Summer in New York made it very challenging to be stylish, but if Kurt was going to go down in flames, he was going to do it looking his best. His light blue shirt with the little sword pattern on it was one of his favorites; it reminded him of one he had worn years ago, which Blaine had always admired.

As he packed up to head out, he heard his phone ding with a notification. “Blaine Anderson has tagged you in a photo.” He held his breath and checked it out, seeing with amusement a picture of himself from just a few days ago. Blaine had been practicing using the camera on his phone and insisted that Kurt pose for him – in this one, Kurt was twisting away from Blaine as he tried to get a shot of him playing the piano, and the result was admittedly pretty cute, with Kurt halfway hiding behind the sheet music he had grabbed to shield himself with.

Kurt scrolled down Blaine’s Facebook page, curious. He hadn’t realized Blaine had waded back into the world of social media, but given that the man had a brand new iPhone and not a lot to occupy him, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He tracked down the first recent entry, a status Blaine had posted a few days ago: “alive and awake – where is everybody?” After that there were a flurry of questions and well wishes. Maybe this accounted for Rachel’s visit – she probably wanted to get to Blaine first and be able to claim bragging rights.

Kurt felt a little pang as he read the comments on Blaine’s page. Blaine had so many friends that were stunned and thrilled by his announcement, and now they were all volunteering their attention and assistance to his husband. Kurt knew it was good for Blaine to see his friends, but at the same time, he had to admit he selfishly enjoyed being Blaine’s connection to the world. He had been without Blaine for so long, part of him wished he could keep him all to himself now. _And that’s super healthy,_ he muttered to himself.

The long list of comments and posts also made Kurt feel even worse about the decision not to encourage more of their friends to come by. Not that it had been entirely Kurt’s decision, of course – he had talked about it with Blaine, and except for Wes, Blaine hadn’t wanted to see their friends just yet. He was still very self-conscious, not happy with his appearance, his speech, or the fact that he was still stuck in a wheelchair. Kurt hadn’t wanted to push. Plus, it made it easier for Kurt to keep putting off telling Blaine the whole story of the past three years. 

As Kurt read through the comments, he realized that there wasn’t likely to be a flood of visitors just yet. Blaine had responded to many requests for details with “still recovering – hope to see you guys when I’m on my feet” and it didn’t look like he had given out his location, not even whether he was in NYC. Kurt felt a sudden ache for Blaine, who was obviously lonely but maybe not yet confident enough for prime time. 

Kurt’s eyes flicked to the time and he groaned, realizing he was now even later than he told Blaine he’d be the last time he checked in. He needed to get his ass over to the center and work this out with Blaine, pronto. 

*****

As Kurt speed walked down the hall, he heard guitar music coming from Blaine’s room. He was irrationally pleased for a moment, glad that Blaine had finally started playing again. Kurt was in the process of mentally patting himself on the back for bringing the guitar in with him when he visited the day before, when he realized that it wasn’t Blaine playing.

“Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo, here comes the sun…” It was Santana, Kurt saw as he paused in the doorway, with Blaine joining in with her, softly harmonizing in the background, a joyful look on his face.

He hadn’t noticed Santana replying to Blaine’s Facebook post, but Wes had mentioned talking with her recently, and being Santana, she probably hadn’t waited for an invitation to come see Blaine. Kurt hadn’t been surprised at all when Wes and Santana became friends, although it didn’t necessarily seem to make sense at first. Years ago Wes had learned how Santana had reacted to the rock salt slushie incident, standing up for Blaine and challenging the Warblers to do the right thing. Wes had connected with her sense of justice and was impressed with her determination. And when Wes decided someone was worth his time, he rarely changed his mind.

When Wes began working full-time, he had convinced Santana to apply for a summer job at his law firm. Something had clicked for her, and now she was taking classes towards a pre-law degree, continuing to work part-time with Wes. Brittany found it all endlessly amusing, telling Kurt that Santana needed to get her toughness out at work so she could be soft with Brittany at home. Kurt felt it best not to repeat that comment to Santana.

Kurt paused in the doorway, just watching the two of them. Blaine caught his eye and smiled as the song came to an end, but Santana’s back was to him and she didn’t notice his presence as she launched into another song.

“Dani taught this one to me and Britt,” Santana explained to Blaine as she strummed the guitar intro. “It sounds better with three-part harmony, but I think you’ll like it anyway.”

_I have failed you, I have failed you_   
_I have lost my way, lost my nerve and failed you._   
_But I love you, how I love you_   
_I have turned my back, left you last but I love you._

_Oh, setting sun, don't sink before I've found my heart;_   
_Heart, don't give up now while there's still time;_   
_Time, don't beat your old retreat,_   
_Stay a little while with me, 'til I've looked the whole thing in the eye._

Kurt stood frozen in the doorway as Santana sang, transported back to when he first heard this song. He had just come home from tour, and Elliott had dragged him out to some hipster bar in Greenwich Village, hoping to take his mind off the fact that Blaine wasn’t where he had left him. The trio’s shimmering close harmonies were mesmerizing, but what had struck him more at the time were the lyrics. _I have failed you…_

Santana sang on, still oblivious to Kurt, while Blaine was beginning to harmonize with the chorus.

_Swing low, sail high,_   
_Swing low, sail high._   
_I have failed you, I have failed you,_   
_I have closed my heart, I have failed you,_   
_But I love you, how I love you,_   
_All my days were rearranged to say I love you._

_Oh, setting sun, don't weep for all the things you lose,_   
_Morning comes as sure as it must die._   
_Dying is such mystery,_   
_Yet I wonder will it be, when I've looked the whole thing in the eye?_

Surely Santana had no idea what Kurt was about to reveal to Blaine tonight, did she? Kurt felt himself shaking, and began backing out of the doorway. Blaine glanced up at him in confusion, a flash of hurt shooting over his face.

Before Kurt knew it he was on the sidewalk outside of the center, leaning against a lamppost and gasping for breath. He had failed Blaine, and it was breaking his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End note:** Please, for me, listen to the song featured here, _Swing Low Sail High_ by the Wailin’ Jennys. It will destroy you. [Listen.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3e3IwXpyYo)


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt walked the streets in frustration, finally ending up at a piano bar not far from his apartment. He went inside and found a seat in a booth in the back, ordered a drink that he didn’t touch, and tried to pull himself together. He knew that he was being irrational, and that regardless, running away wasn’t going to solve anything. But for as long as he kept his fears inside, he could hope that Blaine was going to forgive him. He could imagine that it would all be okay. Once it was all out in the open, it might all be over. And then he would have no one to blame but himself – not the car accident, not Pam Anderson, not Cooper. Just Kurt Anderson-Hummel.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a voice said, and Kurt nearly jumped out of his seat. Santana just smirked and slid into the booth, waving down a waiter and ordering herself a gin and tonic.

“What are you doing here, Santana?” Kurt asked, trying to keep his composure.

“Interrupting your pity party, I’m guessing? And it’s a good thing you were in the first place I checked, because these shoes are really not made for walking.” Santana propped her feet up on the bench and pulled off her high heels, rubbing a spot on her toe. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in giving me a foot massage?”

“You are ridiculous,” Kurt mumbled.

“And you aren’t? You’ve got your loverboy back, bright eyed and bushy-haired, and you’re sitting in this crappy bar by yourself. I don’t get it.”

“It’s not your problem.”

“No? Well, I’m making it my problem. Blainey and I were having a perfectly good evening which you saw fit to ruin with a dramatic exit, the likes of which I haven’t seen from you in years. The only way I could get him to calm down was to promise that I’d make sure you were okay.”

“Blaine’s upset?” _Of course he’s upset, you dumbass._ Kurt wasn’t even sure if that was his own thought or Santana’s, it could be either.

“Well, duh. And he’d be less upset if you’d return his text, which I suggest you do right now.”

Kurt pulled his phone out and quickly scanned his messages. There were three from Santana, each more profane than the last. There was just one from Blaine, which read simply “you haven’t.”

Kurt began shaking again. “What did you tell him?” he asked Santana, his voice uneven.

“What do you mean? We just talked, like two friends who haven’t seen each other in years – which, coincidentally, we are.” 

Kurt gave Santana a pointed look, and she just shrugged. “I don’t know what you want to hear. I told him about what me and Britt were doing, about working with Wes, about going to school. I saw his guitar there, so I told him how Dani taught me to play, and how Britt likes it when I sing to her.” Santana’s face softened when she said this, and she shook her head a little. “You know how Blaine likes that sweet stuff.”

Kurt nodded. It was true. He rested his head on the table on top of his crossed arms, his face pressed against the sticky wood. Santana was just being a good friend, the kind of person Blaine needed in his life right now. Why couldn’t he get a grip and be that person for Blaine?

Santana poked the top of his head with a sharp fingernail. “Seriously, Kurt, whatever is bothering you isn’t going to get better until you talk about it with Blaine. You know that, right?”

“I do,” he said, still speaking to the table. 

“Then what’s stopping you?”

Kurt lifted his head up and sighed. “That song you were singing, ‘Swing Low, Sail High’?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s me.”

Santana tilted her head at him for a moment, considering. “It’s a beautiful song. Blaine thinks you’re beautiful. I get it.”

Kurt kicked her under the table. “Don’t be obtuse. I fucked up, Santana, while Blaine was in a friggin’ coma. I wasn’t even there when he woke up. And when he finds out, he’s going to hate me.” Kurt’s voice was high and cracking and he felt like he might throw up.

“Again with the dramatics. Even assuming that Blaine doesn’t know this yet, what makes you think he’s not going to forgive you? He always forgives you eventually, right?”

“But, Santana…”

“And you’ve both done dumbass things before, with good intentions and bad. Get over yourself and go beg his forgiveness. Throw in a blow job and I’m sure you’ll be all set.” Santana threw some money down on the table and stood up. “Come on.”

“What, are you going to drag me back to him?”

“Um, no, it’s past midnight,” she scoffed. “But I’m going to walk you home, sleep on your couch, and make sure you head over there first thing tomorrow. In fact, I’m going to text him right now and tell him that.”

Kurt groaned as he watched Santana compose a text, not even bothering to ask what it might say. “Why are you doing this, Santana?”

“Brittany doesn’t like it when her unicorns are fighting.”

*****

Santana did not, in fact, sleep on Kurt’s couch. But she did watch him send off an email to Isabelle explaining that he wouldn’t be at work the next day, made him drink a glass of water, and tucked him into bed. Then she gave him a peck on the cheek and said goodnight. “Don’t worry so much, Kurt. You guys are forever. I know it, and you know it, and Blaine knows it. So get some rest, and then go kiss and make up with Sleeping Beauty. It’s going to be okay.”

The next morning Kurt was up early. He showered quickly, styled his hair, put on some simple dark tailored shorts and a white v-neck t-shirt, and headed out. He made a detour to a flower shop he and Blaine had used to use for special occasions, wanting something nicer than the bouquets at his neighborhood bodega. Kurt considered picking up breakfast as well, but then decided he was just trying to delay the inevitable, and made his way to the care center.

Kurt wasn’t used to the rhythm of the center on a weekday morning, and was a little surprised at how quiet the place seemed. His mouth was dry as he approached Blaine’s room, and he ran Santana’s words over in his mind. Were he and Blaine forever? He had always thought so, but somehow obstacles kept getting in their way. He paused as he reached Blaine’s door. Well, it was now or never, and never wasn’t a particularly attractive option.

Kurt was surprised to find the room empty, and as he looked around, an orderly stuck his head in. “Looking for Blaine? I think he’s in the courtyard.”

Kurt thanked him, too flustered to get into a conversation, and went to find his husband. The courtyard was a small outdoor area behind the first floor dining room. It wasn’t much more than a patio, some benches, and a few beds of perennials. Kurt excused himself as he went through the dining area and out into the humid summer air, quickly locating Blaine on a bench at the other side of the yard, his wheelchair abandoned next to him. He was leaning back with his eyes closed, earbuds in his ears, the sun on his face giving him a golden glow.

Kurt came up next to him slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Blaine?”

Blaine opened his eyes and blinked, taking out his earphones. “Kurt. Hi.”

“May I sit down?”

Blaine nodded, patting the spot next to him.

“These are for you.” Kurt sat down and held out the bouquet to Blaine. It was a tightly wrapped posy of white tulips, white roses, and sprays of hyacinth, with delicate white ribbon holding it together. 

Blaine took the flowers, his eyes wide, and brought them up to his face, inhaling deeply. “Thank you, Kurt, they’re beautiful.” He set them down on his other side. “White tulips for forgiveness?” he asked, his face concerned.

Kurt nodded. “And roses for love.” He paused, trying to figure out where to start. “Blaine, I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I’ve handled this so badly. I’m just… my emotions are so screwed up right now, it’s like having love, and joy, and pain, and guilt, and hope all swirled up together. I can’t seem to sort myself out.”

Blaine scooted closer to Kurt on the bench. “Just tell me what’s going on, Kurt, and we’ll figure it out. Please.” 

So Kurt did. He started from the beginning, the horror of the accident, and the slow, painful understanding that Blaine wasn’t going to wake up. Kurt’s insistent denial, his arguments with the doctors, all falling away as weeks and months went by and there was no change in Blaine’s condition. Elliott dragging Kurt to an audition that he was barely paying attention to, and his stunned surprise at being awarded a part in a national tour, the first “yes” after dozens of rejections. 

Kurt told Blaine how his mother had offered to take over guardianship of Blaine while Kurt was away, and how when he returned from tour, Blaine was gone. 

“And I… I didn’t see you again. I didn’t know about your mom dying, or what Cooper did, or even that you woke up. Not until I saw you in the park with Marta.” Kurt had hardly noticed when, but Blaine had both his hands in his, clutching them tightly.

“Your mom sent me divorce papers, but I didn’t want them. I didn’t sign them. But I should have done more, I should have been there…” Tears were streaming down Kurt’s cheeks, and he could barely look at Blaine, who was staring at him with a heartbroken look on his face.

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine breathed out, “I’m so sorry.”

Kurt sucked in a breath, not understanding what he was hearing.

“I’m so sorry I left you alone for so long.” Blaine lunged towards Kurt and wrapped him in his arms, one hand finding its way into Kurt’s hair and pressing his head against his own. “I can’t imagine what that would have been like, having to deal with that, all by yourself. My god, I’m so sorry.”

“But, Blaine, I should have-” 

“No, absolutely not, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Blaine pulled back and looked directly at Kurt, his caramel eyes wide and earnest. “You kept yourself healthy, and safe, and now you’re here for me. We’re both alive, and we’re together, and that’s all that matters. That’s all that matters.”

Blaine pulled Kurt back against his chest and listened to him as he continued to protest, all his fears spilling out – that Kurt should have made sure he got more physical therapy, that Kurt should have been there when Blaine was waking up so he didn’t feel alone and confused. 

But Blaine just kept holding him, and stroking his back, and whispering soothing words in his ear. “You were in an impossible situation, Kurt. No one thought I would wake up. No one. I’ve talked about this with Dr. Kamali, I know what those doctors must have told you.”

“How can you be so understanding about this?” Kurt finally choked out. “If it were me, I’d be furious.”

“Really?” Blaine asked gently, wiping a tear away from Kurt’s eye. “I don’t believe that, not for a minute. And even if you were, I’m not sure you’d have anyone to be furious at.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Blaine looked away, his fingers tightly gripping Kurt’s shirt. “I’d be a basket case if this happened to you, Kurt. I don’t know how I’d survive it.”

Kurt felt his heart skip a beat, but he couldn’t discount Blaine’s statement. “There were some days when I didn’t think I would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this bonus chapter - now we'll go back to the regular schedule with the next post on Tuesday. Please let me know if you are enjoying the story - I'd love to hear from you if you haven't commented before (and of course, if you have, as well)!


	10. Chapter 10

Over the next few days a peaceful calm settled on them both. Kurt was so relieved at getting everything off his chest that he felt like the proverbial weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It had also helped them for Blaine to acknowledge what Kurt had gone through, and Blaine prompted Kurt several times after that first conversation to tell him more about the past three years. Instead of breaking them apart, Kurt’s revelation was bringing them closer together.

What Kurt hadn’t realized until now was that his secrecy had taken a toll on Blaine, as well. He shouldn’t have been surprised, because his husband had always been so sensitive to his moods. But now that things were out in the open, Blaine was much more relaxed around Kurt. It was as if Blaine had suddenly given himself permission to be more physical with him, taking every opportunity to reassure Kurt with little kisses and gentle touches that Blaine loved him, and nothing that Kurt had done or didn’t do was going to change that.

Now it was Friday afternoon and Kurt was looking forward to having the weekend to spend with Blaine. He was working a little later than normal to make up for the day he had taken off earlier in the week, and it seemed like the day was going on forever. 

When his phone buzzed with a text, breaking the monotony of his thoughts, Kurt was pleased to see that it was from Blaine. Kurt swiped at the message, and had to hold back a giggle. It read “thinking of u <3.” 

“Nice save,” Kurt texted back, remembering how he had been so frustrated with Blaine’s insistent texts just a few days ago. 

“What r u wearing?” Blaine responded, making Kurt laugh out loud.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kurt replied. But then his phone rang, and he shook his head as he picked up. “Blaine, I’m still at Vogue…” he began, secretly hoping that Blaine actually had a not safe for work conversation in mind.

“No, silly, I actually wanted to know. Because, um, it’s actually kind of chilly in here today, and so if you were going to show up in shorts and a t-shirt, you might be cold.”

This sounded a little strange to Kurt, especially since he could just throw on one of Blaine’s many sweatshirts, but he was willing to play along. “Okay, fine. I’m wearing a white button-up shirt, my pinstriped dark gray vest, and dark blue skinny jeans.”

“Great, that’s great. Don’t go home and change first, just come over.”

Something was definitely going on, but Blaine sounded at least as excited as he did nervous. “Sure, I can do that. See you around six, then?”

“Yeah, six is good. Good. See you then!”

*****  
When Kurt arrived at Blaine’s room, he found a note with his name on it taped to the door. He unfolded it and chuckled to himself as he read it: _Knock first and don’t come in until I tell you to._ Blaine was definitely up to something.

Following instructions, Kurt knocked. He heard a shuffling noise and what sounded distinctly like a giggle. “Come in,” Blaine called out.

Kurt opened the door and his mouth fell open at the sight before him. Blaine’s bland room had been transformed into an elegant scene, the harsh lights replaced with flickering LED candles, and the small table set with fine china and a bouquet of peonies. 

“Blaine, how did you do this?” Kurt asked, looking around in awe.

His question was answered as Brittany scurried out from the bathroom, dragging a smirking Santana behind her.

“Have fun,” Brittany cooed, patting Kurt on the head as she ran out the door.

“Don’t damage the merchandise,” Santana said, giving Blaine a wink. “I don’t think we can return him.”

As the door closed behind the girls, Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine. “If I told you that you were a sight for sore eyes, would you dock me points for unoriginality?” Kurt asked.

“Not at all,” Blaine said, a smile lighting his features. He was standing by the small table, one hand on the back of a chair, and the other clutching a cane to keep his balance. And instead of a t-shirt and sweatpants, he was wearing a snug black polo shirt, tight gold jeans, and a bowtie. 

Kurt found himself staring at his husband, who started to blush from the attention.

“Are you going to come give me a kiss, or just look at me all night?” Blaine asked.

Kurt didn’t waste any time after that, taking Blaine in his arms and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. With his hands on Blaine’s narrow waist and the scent of his cologne surrounding him, Kurt almost swooned. “Holy crap, Blaine, you are gorgeous,” he breathed out.

Blaine dug his face into Kurt’s neck with a little laugh, apparently not quite prepared for the effect he was having on Kurt. “You are too.”

Blaine leaned his weight on Kurt, and Kurt realized another reason Blaine looked so different.

“Let me help you sit down,” he said, holding Blaine’s arm as Blaine sat in the closer of the two chairs, a look of relief flickering over his face. “Nice job standing up, by the way.” Kurt slipped around Blaine and took the other chair, pulling it close so that their knees were touching.

Blaine shrugged. “Party trick.” But he couldn’t quite tamp down his shy smile.

“I take it Santana had a hand in this?” Kurt asked, gesturing around the room.

Blaine nodded. “The table settings are hers and Britt’s – wedding presents, believe it or not.”

“And the clothes?” Kurt asked.

“They’re mine, of course,” Blaine said, grinning. “Turns out one advantage of being in a coma for three years is that your high school clothes fit you again. Santana didn’t have to look very hard for them – she said they were in your closet in a plastic container cunningly labeled ‘Blaine’s Clothes.’” Blaine smoothed his hands over his thighs. “Although they might be a little out of style.”

Kurt shook his head. “Nope, they’re perfect.” He looked Blaine over appreciatively, coming back to his eyes with a wide smile. “Absolutely perfect.”

Blaine blushed again. “Thank you.”

“What about this?” Kurt ran a finger along Blaine’s bow tie. It was silk, in brilliant shades of crimson, cinnamon and orange, with a delicate pattern running through it. And very familiar.

“Oh, this?” Blaine raised an eyebrow at Kurt. “A present from Santana. She found it in a little menswear shop downtown. From the line of some young up and coming designer. I think he works at Vogue.”

Kurt was overcome, his worlds crashing together in the most unbelievably wonderful way. He hadn’t thought his work would ever be worn by the person who had inspired it all. And yet there Blaine sat, so beautiful in the soft light, wearing the bow tie Kurt had designed. “I always pictured you wearing this. Every single piece. I made them all for you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, sweetheart? I’m so very proud of you. There’s a whole line of men’s accessories out there with your name on them.”

Kurt just shook his head. “Once you woke up… it just didn’t seem important anymore.”

*****

Kurt brought the platter over from the dresser and uncovered it, revealing grilled chicken breast over roasted veggies and arugula. It looked delicious.

"It had to be something cold," Blaine explained apologetically as Kurt put a portion on each of their plates. "But Santana got it from that bistro you like on 12th Street."

"Blaine, are you kidding, this is fantastic," Kurt said, taking an appreciative bite. "I'm still in shock over this whole thing."

Blaine looked down, a shy smile pulling at his lips. "I wanted to do something nice for you. And my options are kind of limited."

Something in Blaine's tone tugged at Kurt's heart. He reached up to cup Blaine's cheek, turning his face towards his. "Hey, anyone who can pull off a breathtakingly romantic dinner in a place like this is not someone who lets himself be limited. And before you say anything else, don't give Brittana all the credit - they can take direction when properly motivated, but I can tell this was all you."

Blaine smiled, his face lighting up. "I love you," he said, his eyes conveying how very much he meant it.

"I love you too."

Kurt couldn't help but kiss Blaine some more after that, and Blaine certainly didn't seem to mind. Kurt hadn’t intended to let it get too heated, but as he relaxed into Blaine’s embrace and felt his tongue dart out to lick at his lips, he felt his mouth fall open with a little moan. Just as Kurt was beginning to fantasize about scooping Blaine up in a bridal carry and relocating them to the bed, Blaine pulled back, his cheeks flushed and a shy but pleased smile tugging at his lips. 

As they ate dinner, Kurt watched a bit nervously as Blaine struggled with his knife. From time to time Blaine’s hands still shook, and the doctors hadn't been able to give them a clear answer as to whether it would ever stop. But Kurt refrained from saying anything - it never seemed to help. And anyway, Blaine seemed to be taking it in stride tonight, not letting it bother him.

When they were almost finished, Blaine suddenly turned to Kurt. "Oh, shoot!"

"What?"

"I meant to take pictures. Of us, and everything..." Blaine waved his hand at the room. "I always forget to take pictures before we eat."

It's true, he did. "Well, we can still get pics of us. Was that why you didn't want me to change my clothes?"

Blaine grinned. "Yeah. Plus, I just wanted to see you as soon as possible."

Kurt felt a warmth rush through him, and he practically bounced in his seat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Kurt just gazed at Blaine's beautiful face for a moment, before he remembered what they were supposed to be doing. "Um, should I go look for Jenny or someone to help us capture the moment, or should we just do it ourselves?"

They were in the process of posting their selfies on Facebook ("should I be surprised that people are still using Facebook?" "We're members of the Facebook generation, Blaine. If we don't post it, how will we know it happened?") when Blaine's phone rang. They both saw who was calling, and Kurt sucked in his breath. It was Cooper.

"Has he called you before?"

“No.” Blaine shook his head emphatically as he stared at the ringing phone. "Kurt. What do I...?"

"Pick it up?" It was more of a question than an answer, but Blaine nodded and accepted the call.

"Hello?" Blaine said quietly.

It was painful to see how quickly his happy and confident Blaine of a moment ago was replaced by someone far more wary. But whatever Cooper was saying must have been okay, because after a few seconds Blaine relaxed.

Kurt was still tense, however, and he didn’t think it was going to do either of them any good for him to sit and watch Blaine have this conversation. He gave Blaine a quick squeeze on the shoulder and stood up. "I'll give you some time to chat, okay?" Blaine nodded, still listening to Cooper. 

Kurt sighed at the loss of this intimate moment with his husband. With another quick glance at Blaine, Kurt left the room and walked down the brightly lit hallway, his hands shoved in his pants pockets and his thoughts spinning.

Weeks ago, Kurt had pushed aside his anger at Cooper in favor of focusing on the positive, as Wes had suggested. But now Cooper was back, ruining the first romantic dinner he had had with his husband since before the accident, and all those feelings had come rushing to the surface. Cooper had never been the brightest bulb - apparently Anderson men could be either tall or smart, but not both - but Kurt had a hard time forgiving him for his unfeeling attitude towards Blaine's care. Kurt sighed, shaking his head at himself. He was sure his own situation was distinguishable, but he still wondered if there wasn't a danger of stones in this particular glass house. Kurt needed to find a way to get past this.

He went out to the courtyard and walked the short paths, letting the cool night air calm him. Kurt had sort of meant to reach out to Cooper after that first conversation, to bring him back into Blaine's life, but he hadn't done it. It was just easier to write him off, and only let people he could really trust get close to Blaine. Possibly, he thought to himself, remembering Blaine's shock at seeing that Cooper was calling, that had been a mistake.

After a while Kurt's phone pinged with a text from Blaine. _Off the phone. Sry. U still here?_

He replied immediately, texting as he sprinted to catch the elevator. _Of course, be right there._

Kurt arrived at Blaine's room to find his husband sitting rather primly in his chair, a nervous look on his face. "You okay?"

Blaine just nodded, his lips tight. 

Kurt was dying to know what Cooper had said, but frankly he was more concerned about Blaine, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Want to sit on the bed with me?"

Blaine nodded again, his eyes flickering back and forth between his wheelchair, pushed over to the side of the room, and his cane, which was on the floor just out of reach. _Oh._

"Can I just...?" Kurt came over and got Blaine's arm around his shoulders and helped him slowly shuffle the few steps to the bed. Blaine was leaning heavily on Kurt, not even trying to stand by himself. Kurt helped him up on to the bed and then scooted next to him, continuing to help Blaine slide around until they were both situated with their backs up against the headboard. 

Kurt could feel the tension radiating off Blaine, and so he just rested his shoulder against Blaine's and waited, wrapping one finger around one of Blaine’s where their hands rested together on the soft blanket between them.

Just when Kurt was beginning to think that maybe Blaine had used up all his words for the evening, Blaine broke the silence. "He thinks you hate him." The pain in Blaine's voice was wrenching. 

Kurt took a deep breath, hoping what he was about to say wouldn’t make things worse. But he wasn’t going to lie. "I don't hate Cooper, Blaine. But I was... shocked, really, by what he did. He shipped you off here, even though he lives in Toronto. He wasn't even nearby."

"He told me. He also said that he thought we were divorced. He thought that you divorced me after the accident." Blaine's shoulders were tight, and he wouldn't look at Kurt.

"I didn't, Blaine, you know that, right?" Kurt said pleadingly.

"I know. Wes told me."

Well, that stung. "You didn't believe me?"

Blaine shrugged. "It was legal stuff. Maybe you got confused, signed something you didn't read... Because why would they have told Cooper that? Cooper didn't make it up..." Blaine pressed his eyes shut and turned his face away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Kurt thought he was beginning to get it. But maybe this didn’t have to be anyone’s fault. "No one is saying that Cooper made it up. Things got confused along the way. Clearly your mom told the staff of the place you were at _something_ about us, and it got passed to Cooper. He could only deal with the information he was given."

Blaine turned back to Kurt, his eyes wet with tears. "Please, Kurt, can you please not hate him? Cooper’s all the family I have left."

"Oh, sweetheart, of course." Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine and pulled him close, and Blaine responded by digging his face into Kurt's neck. Kurt rubbed his back, holding him tight, willing him to relax. "It's okay, I'm over it. Don't worry." Kurt suddenly felt the weight of the responsibility he had taken on - willingly, and gratefully - as Blaine recovered and slowly integrated himself back into the world. Blaine had always looked to Kurt for approval, perhaps more than he should have at times, but lately, he hadn't had much choice. 

"You know, you don't need my permission to have Cooper in your life," Kurt said softly. 

Blaine didn't respond immediately, and Kurt hoped he hadn't upset him. When he did reply, it was clear he was choosing his words carefully. "I knew you were mad at him, I could tell when the center staff was asking you questions about him and you were so… measured in your responses. And you haven't mentioned him at all to me, not to suggest a visit, or a call, or even update me on how he was doing. So I figured it must have been pretty bad."

Kurt put his hand on Blaine's head, softly dragging his fingers through his curls. Blaine shifted and settled more comfortably against his chest. "I'm sorry. Everything that went on before I found you again… it’s hard for me to talk about. But you always could have asked me."

Blaine raised his head a little, giving Kurt a wry smile. "It’s hard for me to talk about,” he echoed.

Kurt huffed out a laugh, and Blaine lay back down. "Keep doing that, it feels nice," Blaine said shyly.

They lay together contentedly for a while, Kurt continuing to play with Blaine's hair, until Kurt thought Blaine may have drifted off to sleep. But then Blaine shifted and rolled off of Kurt, throwing an arm over his face. "I forgot something else," he mumbled, and Kurt grinned at how adorable he was.

"What is it?"

Blaine lifted his arm and peeked out at Kurt from under it. "Um, I kind of need you to help me get my jeans off."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at Blaine, who promptly punched him in the shoulder.

"Not that like, you jerk. But they're a lot harder than sweatpants..."

Kurt laughed softly. "I know, it's okay. How did you even get them on in the first place?" Kurt sat up and put his hands on Blaine's knees.

"You don't want to know," Blaine groaned. "I'm afraid Santana may have taken pictures."

Kurt laughed again, and quickly undid Blaine's belt buckle, trying not to make a big deal about it. This wasn’t sex, this was love, and care, and making it anything else was only going to make the situation more awkward. "Well, I do appreciate the effort. You looked very handsome tonight."

"Thank you," Blaine said softly, raising up so Kurt could peel his tight pants off. Kurt slid off the bed and got Blaine's pajamas out of the drawer, then helped him finish changing and pulled the light blanket up over him.

Blaine seemed embarrassed, and pressed his face into his pillow, eyes squeezed shut. "My life is ridiculous," he said, almost to himself.

Kurt climbed back on the bed next to him, grabbing Blaine by the shoulder and turning him until he looked up at Kurt. "Hey, none of that. Blaine..." Kurt's throat felt tight as his words tumbled out, "Blaine, your life is not ridiculous. Your life is a miracle, an honest to god, science can't explain it miracle." 

Blaine’s eyes were wide as he gazed at Kurt, taking in his words.

"I don't care whether I need to dress you like a Ken doll every day for the rest of your life, you know. That’s not important. I’m so just astoundingly grateful that you are here, alive and awake and looking at me, and you should be too. And if you’re not, well, then I’ll do whatever I have to do to help you get there. Okay?”

“Kurt…” Blaine breathed out, and reached up to pull Kurt down, practically on top of him, and wrapped his arms tightly around him. “I am grateful to be here with you, I promise. It’s just hard, and I forget sometimes.” Blaine squeezed Kurt and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome.” Kurt put his hands on either side of Blaine’s face and looked at him intently. “Actually, there’s one more thing I need to remind you of.”

“Oh?”

“Cooper is _not_ the only family you have left,” Kurt said firmly, running a finger along Blaine’s cheekbone to soften his words. “Your dad may be kind of an ass, but he has been paying for this place all along. And I’m guessing he wouldn’t be entirely opposed to hearing from you at some point, when you’re ready. Not everyone has a kid who comes back from the dead.” 

Blaine shrugged, but Kurt wasn’t bothered; he had been thinking more about Blaine’s dad recently, and how despite his general anti-social tendencies he did seem to want some connection to Blaine, but that conversation could wait for another time. 

Kurt shifted to the side, and found Blaine’s left hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on his wedding ring. “You also have a whole other group of people who love you,” he said softly. “My dad and Carole will always be your family. You know that, right?”

Blaine’s eyes grew watery, and he nodded at Kurt. “Yeah.”

“And then of course, there’s me.” Kurt leaned down and rubbed his nose against Blaine’s. “I do adore you, you know.”

Blaine scrunched his eyes together and pulled Kurt close. “I adore you too,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to say that you guys weren’t my family.”

“I know. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like you couldn’t talk to Cooper.” Kurt huffed against Blaine’s chest. “Maybe we should have a party, invite everyone.”

Blaine mumbled something to Kurt that sounded like “in your dreams.” But Kurt was starting to get excited.

“No, really, why not? We could have a party to celebrate your recovery. There are all these people that want to see you, and I’ve been terrible about organizing visits, but you know how I feel about parties-”

“No party,” Blaine muttered, putting a finger over Kurt’s lips.

“Is that a ‘no party, because I’m sleepy and I just want you to stop talking right now,’ or ‘no party, because I truly don’t want one?” Kurt asked.

Blaine pushed a hand into Kurt’s hair and tugged him close, pressing a firm kiss to his lips that cut off Kurt’s words. “I’m too tired to even parse that question out properly.” He pulled back and looked at Kurt. “If I promise to talk to you about it some other time, can we please go to sleep now?”

Kurt smiled and kissed Blaine back, loving how relaxed he was, snuggled up against him under the covers. He’d pretty much say yes to anything at this point. “Of course, sweetheart. Love you.”

As Blaine drifted off, Kurt set the alarm on his phone to give him thirty minutes to cuddle with Blaine. The staff didn’t let him sleep over, but they were pretty lax about when he actually left for the night, and so Kurt often stayed until Blaine fell asleep. Blaine was usually out before ten o’clock, anyway. Kurt couldn’t wait until Blaine came home and they could spend all night wrapped around each other. He didn’t know when it would be, but he was hoping for very, very soon.


	11. Chapter 11

Kurt tried to find Michael at the center the next day to ask him about Blaine’s progress, but Michael was busy, running late with his patients. When Michael suggested meeting the next morning for coffee, Kurt readily agreed, but now that he was sitting in the cute little shop waiting for Michael, he was getting nervous. Was there some reason that they couldn’t just chat in the sitting room at the center the way they usually did? Was something wrong?

He sighed, and tried to occupy himself by looking around the café. It was clearly going for a “we make intense coffee” hipster vibe, and he thought how much Blaine would like it. There was a corkboard off to the side advertising various mike nights and performances. Kurt snapped a picture of it for future reference, thinking maybe he could convince Blaine to come watch sometime soon.

When Michael arrived, they spent a few minutes getting their drinks, and then settled at a table by the window.

“All right, I can’t take it any more,” Kurt finally exclaimed. “Can Blaine come home yet? He can, right?”

They had talked a few times about what it would take for Blaine to be ready to leave the center, and as far as Kurt could tell, he met all the recommended goals. There were certainly no issues with his cognitive abilities, thankfully, but his slow physical improvement had been holding him back. 

Michael took a deep breath, and Kurt immediately knew the news wasn’t going to be good. “Hang on, Kurt, just hear me out, okay?”

Kurt nodded, trying to keep an open mind and not jump immediately to the arguments he wanted to make in favor of Blaine’s abilities.

“Blaine is continuing to improve physically, although it’s been slower than any of us would like. He’s still having trouble with consistency of movement in his hands, and it seems to pop up at unpredictable times. He’s getting stronger all over, but his balance is still a problem. He still relies on his wheelchair, and really isn’t able to take more than a step or two without it.”

“But he can get around fine, he can come home even if he’s in a wheelchair, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Kurt insisted.

“Of course there’s not, but that’s not the point I’m making. One of the factors in whether or not he should leave the center depends upon how much assistance he needs during the day. Blaine is able to transfer himself in and out of the chair, which is a big step in independence. But he still relies on the staff to help him with a number of daily tasks, including meals. He also has a social life at the center – maybe not the one he’d like, but there are people to talk to, activities to engage in to keep his mind occupied. If he comes to live with you, you have to think about how you would handle these responsibilities. It can be a lot to take on, especially when you’re working.”

“He’s my husband, Michael. I can do it.”

“Just because you can do it doesn’t mean you should. We can arrange for aides to come for a few hours each day, and he’ll still have therapy. Dr. Stein wants him to match him up with a psychotherapist, as well, and maybe find him a group session. But once he leaves, all of this will have to be coordinated by you, plus you’ll have to entertain him whenever you’re home, and help with all of his needs. He’ll be completely dependent upon you. This kind of thing can take a real toll on a marriage.”

Kurt was getting upset. Although he trusted Michael, this wasn’t at all what he had expected. “You know what takes a toll on a marriage? Having your husband in a coma for three years. Blaine is awake now, and he’s recovered, and I want him home with me.”

“But he’s not recovered, Kurt, that’s what I’m saying. He may still have a long way to go. You guys have been doing well, remarkably well, but Blaine has a lot of support from other people right now that keep things moving along smoothly.”

Kurt pressed his lips together, trying not to snap at Michael. “So are you saying he just stays at this place indefinitely?”

“Well, he really can’t stay at the center. He doesn’t need twenty-four hour nursing care, it’s really not the right place for him. But there are other places, residential homes…”

“Move to another shitty place where no one knows him? No, no way, absolutely not.” Kurt stood up, pushing his chair back from the table. “Who do I talk to at the center to get him discharged? This is crazy.”

Michael just looked at Kurt patiently until he sat back down again.

“Sorry.”

“I just want to make sure you think this through before you ask Blaine.”

“Ask Blaine?”

“Well, yeah. You are going ask him whether he feels ready to leave, right?”

Kurt had to admit he hadn’t even considered that Blaine might not want to leave. “Um, sure, of course.” He took a long breath in, feeling his heart continue to pound. “Do you really think he might not want to?”

Michael shrugged. “It’s been a long time since he was home. This center is all he’s really known for a while, and he still doesn’t feel like himself.”

Kurt felt lost. This was not the way he had imagined this conversation going at all. “So what do I do?”

“Get informed about his options, and then talk to him. Be prepared to answer his questions, and let him know that whatever he decides, it’s all right with you.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come home?” Kurt asked, his voice shaking.

“Would you love him any less?”

Kurt shook his head, but his throat was tight and he thought he was going to cry.

“Be patient, Kurt. Talk to him, and see what he says. Remember he loves you like crazy, but he’s been through a lot.”

“What do you think he’ll say?”

Michael smiled. “I’m not a betting man, Kurt. But if I had to guess, he’ll be coming home with you soon. How soon, I don’t know, but I don’t see this guy voluntarily staying away from you for very much longer.”


	12. Chapter 12

It was just after lunch on Sunday when Kurt got a text from Blaine. _Can you come now? I need to talk to you._

Kurt froze, immediately worried – although if Blaine was sending a text, at least nothing too horrible could have happened to him. Kurt had planned to go over to the center in another hour or so, and all he was doing in the meantime was laundry, so he was free. And Blaine would just have to deal with him in his laundry day clothes. _I’m on my way. Are you okay?_

Blaine didn’t respond to his text, but Kurt decided to try not to worry about it, and focused on just getting over to the center as quickly as he could. It was cloudy and gray outside, and although it hadn’t started raining yet, he had the feeling that there was a downpour on the way. Kurt dodged slow pedestrians and kids with umbrellas that threatened to blind him (it’s not raining yet, why do you have your umbrella up, he wanted to scold them) but finally made it to the center.

He pulled open the door to the lobby and was about to head for the elevator when he heard a familiar voice.

“Kurt – over here.”

Blaine was standing in the small sitting area by the reception desk, leaning on the edge of a couch. To say he looked tense didn’t begin to cover it.

Kurt immediately crossed to Blaine and took him in his arms, a hand on his lower back to support him. “Sweetheart, what’s going on?” 

But Blaine didn’t relax, just shook his head and looked at Kurt intensely. “You said no more secrets, right?”

“Right,” Kurt replied, frantically searching his mind for whether there was anything else material that he had failed to tell Blaine. He didn’t think that cancelling their HBO subscription really counted.

“Okay, then, you’ll tell me the truth when I ask this?”

“Of course. Blaine, what’s going on?”

Blaine sighed and sat down stiffly on the couch, pulling Kurt next to him. “I’m going to sound like a crazy person when I say this, but… Kurt, do I have a kid?”

Kurt burst out in a laugh before he could help it, but quickly stopped when he saw how seriously Blaine meant his question.

“No, honey, no. How could you have a kid?”

Blaine frowned, scrunching his eyebrows together. “Rachel brought me coffee and cronuts this morning. She also brought Maya.”

_Oh._ “She’s adorable, isn’t she?” Kurt said, trying to be appropriately enthusiastic. “I can’t believe she’s almost a year old.” 

“Kurt,” Blaine said fervently. “She looks _just like me._ And Rachel was being so weird about her. She kept saying how I could always be in her life, that she could call me “Uncle Blaine,” that I could take her on playdates…. She seemed so melancholy, not like Rachel at all. What’s going on?”

Kurt bit his lip, wondering how best to go about this. “First off, Maya is definitely not your kid. If she looks like you, it’s because Rachel has dark hair and Jesse has curly hair, and their spawn looks like both of them. No matter what sci-fi world Sam has convinced you of, no one was stealing your DNA to make a child while you were in a coma.”

Blaine huffed out a laugh. “I wasn’t even thinking of someone taking my DNA.”

“Ugh, how else would they do it?” Kurt asked, disgusted.

“Let’s not go there, okay?” 

Kurt nodded in agreement. 

“So what’s up with Rachel’s weirdness?” Blaine asked.

“You don’t really remember what happened between your graduation and the accident, do you?” Dr. Kamali had reassured them both that it was normal for Blaine to have lost his memory of the weeks just before the car crash, and all things considered, it wasn’t that big a deal. But Kurt had forgotten that this particular event had occurred right in Blaine’s blind spot, as it were.

“No, I don’t. I don’t even really remember graduation, except from the pictures you showed me.”

Kurt looked around the busy reception area. “Can we go back to your room and talk?”

“Sure.” Blaine reached out to grab the walker and pulled it in front of him. He shifted, getting ready to pull himself to his feet, and then looked at Kurt apologetically.

“What? I know you don’t like that thing, but apparently you got yourself all the way down here with it.”

Blaine grinned wryly at Kurt, his good nature apparently returning with his relief over not having a secret love child with Rachel Berry. “I was impatient then. Now I’m just tired.”

Kurt smiled. “Do you want me to get your chair?”

“I don’t want to be a wimp… Maybe just give me a hand?”

“Blaine, you are not a wimp,” Kurt said firmly. But Blaine just shifted closer to Kurt, his hands planted on the top of the walker, clearly intent on not waiting for Kurt to get his wheelchair. Kurt helped him up, and they made slow progress back to Blaine’s room. Kurt could see how determined Blaine was to keep going, however, so he refrained from any further commentary on the subject, instead chiding Blaine lightly for making him leave the house in a wrinkled henley and clinging yoga pants.

“I honestly can’t believe you didn’t change your clothes first,” Blaine said. “Although I can’t say that I mind.” Blaine paused to give an appreciative glance at Kurt’s ass, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

“You asked me to get over here, so I did. I was afraid something was really wrong,” Kurt replied, swinging his hips. If Blaine was enjoying the view, he might as well play it up. At least some things hadn’t changed over the past three years.

“Okay, so I overreacted. But my life has taken some serious soap opera worthy twists lately, you have to admit.”

“It’s true,” Kurt said, standing back to let Blaine go through as they reached the door to his room. “And what I’m about to tell you isn’t going to help.”

They settled on Blaine’s bed, Blaine leaning up against the headboard and Kurt facing him. 

“All right, spit it out,” Blaine said.

“Fine.” Kurt crossed his legs underneath him and scooted closer to Blaine. “Do you remember when we talked about having kids, whether we’d want to adopt or use a surrogate?”

“Sure,” Blaine said calmly. “And you always insisted that you were joking about Quinn donating the egg, even though I know you were actually serious.”

“She’s got good genes…” Kurt said under his breath. “Anyway, you know how Rachel has always been way too involved in our personal lives, for better or for worse, and she always felt free to chime in with how things had been different for her two dads when they were young, and how lucky they were to have found her and been able to adopt her?”

“Yeah…” Blaine looked confused, and Kurt could tell he wasn’t sure where this was going. Well, he’d know soon enough.

“The night of your graduation party, she pulled us aside and said she’d have a baby for us. She’d be the surrogate, and also donate the egg if we wanted her to, our choice. We just had to do it in the next year or two, because she didn’t want to wait too long for her and Jesse to have kids.”

“Oh, wow.” Blaine’s eyes darted to Kurt’s and then away. “Wow. What did we, uh, say?”

Kurt smiled softly, remembering how happy they had been. “We said thank you, and that we’d think very seriously about it.” He slid closer to Blaine, taking his hand and pulling it into his lap. “She could tell we were going to say yes.”

“Fuck,” Blaine said, uncharacteristically blunt. “I really screwed it all up, didn’t I?” His hands were trembling.

“It wasn’t your fault. You know that.”

They sat in silence as Blaine took a few deep breaths, Kurt leaning up against his shoulder. “So then what happened?”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked.

“With Rachel, and her pregnancy? It must have been so hard for you, watching her go through it all.” 

“What? No, I was happy for her. For them. Of course. Everyone was.” Kurt was afraid he didn’t sound particularly convincing, but he was trying.

“Kurt, really?”

Kurt sighed. “Okay, it was sort of horrible. But you don’t need to hear all this, it’s water under the bridge.”

Blaine knocked his shoulder against Kurt’s. “I hate that you went through so many things without me. Just tell me.”

“Fine. Torture me.” He shifted to put his arm around Blaine, and pulled him close until his head was tucked into his own shoulder, and Blaine’s curls were tickling his nose. “Rachel didn’t say anything right away, of course. We all just assumed that you were going to wake up, no matter what the doctors were saying. But then so much time went by… She took me out for coffee one night, just the two of us, and told me that she and Jesse were trying.” Kurt could feel his throat tightening up, and Blaine squeezed him around his waist to reassure him. 

“Rachel was so sad about it, Blaine, about not being able to give us a baby. Everyone was so sad about what had happened to you, and it all seemed so hopeless. But Rachel couldn’t wait forever. She just wanted a breath of happiness in amongst all the sorrow.”

Blaine turned and wiped a few tears off Kurt’s cheeks. 

“When she finally conceived, it was all she could talk about, which was normal, of course. It was hard, for a while, to be around her. And then she started having premature contractions, and had to go on bed rest…”

“I have a hard time imagining Rachel doing very well on bed rest.”

“Yeah. Not exactly her style. She made it through, but the birth was even more difficult than the pregnancy, and she won’t be having any more kids, at least not unless they decide to adopt. The last time we talked about it, she was putting off any decision, just wanting to focus on Maya.”

Blaine nodded, his chin pressing against Kurt’s chest. “It’s almost like you lost a baby. Like we lost a baby.” He sat up and looked at Kurt, concern evident in his eyes. “And I wasn’t there.”

That was almost exactly how it had felt, although it had been a slow loss, the chance slipping away only over weeks and months. For a while Kurt had hoped that maybe Blaine would wake up and Rachel would agree to help them out, even though she had wanted to do it before having her own kids. But then the pregnancy and delivery had been so difficult, and it had become clear that there would be no little Anderson-Hummel with a particular yearning to play Fanny Brice.

Kurt shook his head. “I’m not going to say it was actually like losing a baby. I don’t think anything could be as awful as that. But it was losing an opportunity, a possibility.” He sucked in a breath and tried to find his footing, not wanting to break down over this again. Kurt had done it too many times, curled up on the couch in his lonely apartment, sobbing over the loss of what could have been his own little family.

“It’s okay to be sad about it,” Blaine said softly. He slid off Kurt, lying on his side to face him, and ran his hand over Kurt’s cheek. “I’m feeling pretty sad, and I didn’t even know it happened until now.”

Kurt chuckled through the pressure in his chest. “Well, that’s why you’re sad about it now.” He leaned his forehead against Blaine’s. “At least now we can be sad together.”

“Ah, the essence of true love,” Blaine said, a tiny smile on his face despite the pain in his eyes. 

“I kind of think it is.”

****  
They stayed in bed for most of the afternoon, Blaine prodding Kurt to tell him more about things he had missed while he had been in a coma. It was getting easier for Kurt to talk about it. Strangely, it was the happier moments that were harder to talk about – his father’s big birthday bash last winter was one of them. He worried that Blaine would somehow fault him for being able to enjoy himself without Blaine. But in keeping with the very best parts of his husband’s personality, Blaine seemed to like these stories just fine.

“Don’t be silly,” Blaine said, as Kurt tried to downplay the success of his line of accessories. “Of course I want to hear about the good things that happened to you. It makes me feel a little less bad for ditching you like I did.”

“You didn’t ditch me,” Kurt scolded gently, marveling at how lightly Blaine was able to say such a thing now. He sat up and stretched, glancing out the window. It was pouring. So much for his evening plans.

“Why so glum?” Blaine asked, seeing Kurt’s face.

“I don’t know. I thought we might go out to dinner or something, but it’s pretty awful out there.”

Blaine was quiet, and Kurt looked at him carefully, trying to read his expression. “Something wrong?”

Blaine shrugged. “We hardly ever go anywhere.”

Kurt tilted his head. “Is that a vote for or against?” Blaine didn’t reply, just looked down at his lap. “Hey, what’s the matter? You can tell me.”

Blaine glanced up at Kurt, then back down at his lap. “Nothing, really. It’s just hard not knowing…”

“Not knowing what?”

Blaine pressed his lips together and shook his head. Kurt waited, but apparently this time simply waiting wasn’t going to do the trick. The silence dragged on, and Kurt knew exactly how he wanted to fill it. He knew everyone wanted him to think this through, analyze the pros and cons and dissect it from every possible angle, but like Michael had encouraged him to do at the start, he was just going to go with his gut.

“You know, both Dr. Kamali and Michael say you can come home with me soon. If you’re ready, and if you want to.”

Blaine’s head snapped up, and his eyes locked on Kurt. “What did you say?”

“You can get out of here. Come home with me. Or you can go to some other lower level rehab place if you still want some social supports, or you can stay here for a little while more, although you really don’t need the constant nursing care-”

Suddenly Kurt was knocked back on the bed as Blaine dived onto him, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him tight. “Yes, please,” Blaine exclaimed. “Take me home with you, please. Oh fuck, I was so worried…”

Kurt rubbed Blaine’s back, loving having Blaine in his arms, regardless of the circumstances. “Worried? Why were you worried?”

Blaine snuggled tighter. “Doesn’t matter. Stupid stuff.”

“It’s not stupid if it made you worry.”

“I don’t know. I mean, you never said anything, and I know I could have asked-” Blaine cut off Kurt’s question, “but I was afraid I wouldn’t get the answer I wanted. I mean, for all I know, you’ve really gotten to like living by yourself, or you’re living with someone else and don’t have room for me.”

“Blaine, what are you talking about?”

“It’s been years, Kurt. You could have a roommate, or even a boyfriend.”

Kurt was torn between knocking some sense into his husband’s head and kissing him senseless. He aimed for a middle ground. “Blaine, we’ve talked about this. We’re married,” he held up his hand, wiggling his ring finger. “I’m here every day with you, thrilled that you’re alive and here for me to love. How on earth could I have a boyfriend?”

“Told you it was stupid. But I don’t know what you’ve been up to. Probably not any of my business anyway,” Blaine pouted. 

“Oh my god, you’re impossible.” Kurt pushed back from Blaine until he could see his face. “You think I spent the last three years hooking up? That I have a, a mistress out there somewhere?” 

“I don’t think you call it a mistress,” Blaine mumbled.

“Okay, truth time,” Kurt declared. “You ready?”

Blaine looked nervous. “Um, do I have to say yes?”

“Do you really want to go through this again some other day?” Because Kurt certainly didn’t.

Blaine shook his head. “Nope.”

Kurt sucked in a deep breath, and started speaking quickly. “During the time you were comatose, I kissed _one_ other guy. I was on tour, and we were out dancing, and I had too much to drink. He was one of my co-stars. He knew all about you, and was always so kind to me, always listened when I needed to talk. After we kissed, I ran into the bathroom and almost threw up. That was it – no other dates, no other kisses, no sex, nothing.”

Blaine stared at Kurt, and Kurt held his breath. “What did he look like?”

Kurt leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Kind of like Walter.”

Blaine harrumphed, and when Kurt opened his eyes, he was smiling. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So you’re not mad?”

Blaine’s smile just grew. “Walter was never going to be end game.”

“No, certainly not.”

“And that guy on tour wasn’t, either.”

“True.”

Blaine sighed and lay back on the bed, motioning for Kurt to join him. “Can we go back to talking about me leaving here? I really like that idea.”

“I like it too. A lot.”

“I do have one question,” Blaine said tentatively.

“What is it?”

“Where do you live?”

Kurt sat up, surprised. “Holy crap, you don’t know?”

Blaine gave Kurt a slightly concerned look. “Um, no?”

“I live in our apartment. My home is your home, it’s our home. The same place we’ve lived since we came back to the city in 2015 and you started at NYU.”

Blaine looked like someone had just given him a puppy. “The one we found in that snowstorm, when we came to visit at Thanksgiving? By the Ethiopian place? With the floor that tilts by the kitchen window, and the cabinet you always hit your head on?”

“That’s the one.”

“But we were going to move after I graduated…”

Kurt shrugged. “It didn’t happen. I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” Kurt said quietly. “It didn’t even occur to me to tell you I hadn’t moved. The apartment’s pretty much the same as when you last saw it, except the air conditioner works better, thankfully.”

Blaine grinned, throwing his hands up over his head and flopping back against the pillows. “I can’t believe it. I’m really going home.” 

“So I take it you’re happy about this development?”

Blaine gazed at Kurt. “So happy.” He leaned over and pressed a sweet kiss to Kurt’s lips, then pulled back with a sigh. “Is it pointless to ask why you didn’t say something sooner about me getting out of here?”

“No, not at all, actually.” Kurt told Blaine about Michael’s concerns with Blaine moving back in with Kurt. He tried not to leave anything out, even Michael’s worry that it would be a burden on their relationship for Kurt to take on having to do additional things to care for Blaine.

“But you decided you want me there anyway?”

Kurt pursed his lips. “Blaine, I am dead tired of sneaking out of here at eleven-thirty like a teenager. I want you back where you belong, in our bed, all night long. And more importantly, I want you in our house, in in our kitchen and our bathroom and every other single place we could be. I want us to be together. I want it more than I could possibly explain to Michael, or anyone else.” 

Kurt took a breath, smirking a little at Blaine. “Plus, you know how I get when people tell me I can’t do things.”

Blaine laughed, finding Kurt’s hand and squeezing it.

“But seriously, no one knows the two of us as well as we know ourselves,” Kurt said. “And I think we can do this.”

Blaine smiled, the light in his eyes as bright as the summer sun. “I think we can, too.”


	13. Chapter 13

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hand hard against the thin carpet, knowing that the sting from falling on his ass on the floor would fade quickly. It wasn’t the first time he had tumbled to the ground while trying to make his way across his room, and it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time he hadn’t landed on a wrist, or a knee. He stifled a giggle, thinking of how Kurt would comment on how useful his backside was as a landing pad. 

He looked up as Marta peered around the half open door. “Blaine, need a hand?”

Blaine shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

She nodded approvingly. “Just yell if you change your mind, I’m right next door.” 

Blaine knew that he had to be able to take care of himself before he went home, and that included being able to get up when he fell. At this point, he was willing to drag himself up from the floor a million times over if it would get him closer to his goal. 

When Blaine had first woken up, he had no idea how long he had been unconscious. And he was stunned, to say the least, when Kurt let slip that it had been almost three years. But lately Blaine felt more and more that it had been _ages_ since he had been home. He wasn’t sure whether it was a natural response to learning about all of the things that had gone on in his absence, if filling in the blanks also emphasized the passage of time, but something had changed. And now that he knew he _could_ go home again (shut up, he told the English teacher inside his mind – I can too) he wanted it as soon as possible. 

Of all the places he had ever lived, the little apartment a few blocks away from NYU was his favorite. It was there that he and Kurt had learned to really be partners. They had their rough spots, of course, but overall they had a ridiculously happy life together. Birthdays, anniversaries, so many occasions had been celebrated in those tiny rooms. The thought of going back for more seemed like a dream come true, especially compared to his sterile day to day existence in the center. Not that people here weren’t friendly enough, but – apologies to Judy Garland – there was no place like home.

Blaine shook his head and tried to focus on his current dilemma. Just as he was considering whether to scoot closer to the bed before pulling himself up, or head back towards the table, where he had left the walker, Kurt arrived.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Kurt plopped down on the floor next to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Wanted a change of scenery?” Kurt stretched out his legs, clad in white skinny jeans and fashionable ankle boots, and turned a sunny grin on Blaine.

“You’re not dressed for sitting on the floor,” Blaine said, the corner of his mouth turning up. 

“Never am, babe,” Kurt quipped. “You okay?” he asked, his face turning soft as he looked into Blaine’s eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” Kurt twisted and pulled his phone out of his pants pocket, checking the time. “We’ve got a few minutes before we have to go to the hospital. I’ve got good news and bad news about the apartment. Which do you want first?”

Blaine’s stomach sank. “I can’t come home this weekend, can I?”

“Gee, you really know how to steal a punch line,” Kurt said, frowning. “No, you can’t. I’m so sorry.” Kurt leaned his shoulder against’ Blaine’s. “The elevator’s broken. The landlord swears it will be fixed soon, but it won’t be soon enough.” 

Blaine could see that Kurt was as sad as he was, although he was trying to hide it. “It’s okay, I can wait a little longer.”

“I mean, I thought about having you come home anyway, but I just don’t think you could do the stairs by yourself. Four flights… and even if you did them on your butt, how would you get the wheelchair downstairs?”

“I could just stay in the apartment,” Blaine said, knowing this wasn’t a workable plan. 

“You really can’t... You’ve got doctor’s appointments, and physical therapy…” Kurt looked away, clearly unhappy.

“No, I get it. It’s not practical. And I shouldn’t stay inside the whole time you’re at work, I know that.”

“You’d go stir crazy, Blaine. I know you haven’t been there in a while, but the place is tiny.”

Blaine smiled, remembering how they had struggled to unpack their luggage when they had first moved in, before they learned the tricks to living in a closet-sized space. Which mostly involved folding things very carefully, and not buying anything they didn’t absolutely need if they could help it. And very precisely measured containers for underneath their bed.

“I’ll be okay. I assume we still have a couch, and a television?”

Kurt smiled and held his phone out to Blaine. “That’s the good news. I brought pictures, so you can see everything. It’s not nearly as good as being there, but maybe it will help.”

All too soon, it was time to leave for the hospital. Today Blaine’s doctor had arranged for a series of tests to be run, in an effort to try to determine what was causing Blaine’s balance problems. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but he hoped that at least the tests would give them some information about what was going on. 

Blaine let Kurt help him up and into his wheelchair.

“Do you want a jacket? Hospitals can be cold.”

Blaine nodded, letting Kurt fuss even though he knew as well as Kurt did about the temperature at the hospital. He watched Kurt find one of his many zip up sweatshirts in the drawer and fold it neatly into his messenger bag. Someday Blaine was going to burn those… but for now, his daily uniform of t-shirts and sweatpants would have to do. Although he liked to dress up when Kurt was coming over in the evenings, there was no point in going through the considerable effort to get his legs into jeans when he would just need to take them off at the hospital anyway.

Kurt gave his shoulder a squeeze, and wheeled Blaine down the hall, into the elevator, and then through the lobby. “Thanks for coming with me today,” Blaine said quietly as they reached the entrance to the center, a van waiting outside to transport them. “I know you had to take off work.”

“It’s no problem,” Kurt said. “Isabelle’s a softie, especially where you’re concerned. I’m surprised she hasn’t shown up here with a basket of baby cupcakes or whatever the most hip comfort food is these days.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cronut,” Blaine mused. “Hey, do they still have cronuts?”

“Yes, my dear, they still have cronuts,” Kurt said, laughing. “I promise I’ll get you some soon, okay?” 

“Okay.”

None of the tests lined up for today were painful, and Blaine did his best to just zone out during the MRI. But he couldn’t help the low level anxiety that was building up, and the studiously neutral look on Dr. Kamali’s face when she stopped by his hospital room that afternoon didn’t help.

Kurt saw it too, and gently took Blaine’s hand. Luckily Dr. Kamali knew better than to make small talk.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any news yet. Based on my preliminary review of the test results, I can’t see anything wrong.” She paused, moving closer to Blaine. “Most of my patients would be pleased with that result, but I know you were hoping for answers. I may know more by tomorrow, but I may not. This might just be something you have to live with.” She glanced down at her notes. “Your physical therapist says you’re still making progress, and there’s no reason that won’t continue. We’ll keep up with the vestibular therapy for balance, as well.”

Blaine hardly felt Kurt squeezing his hand. He hoped the doctor would finish talking soon, so he could breathe again.

“I’m going to put you on a 10 day course of strong antibiotics, and if there isn’t any significant change, probably add another 10 days to that, just in case this is bacterial. It’s acting like an inner ear problem, so it’s possible that will do the trick. We’ll talk in 10 days.” Dr. Kamali nodded briskly, said her goodbyes, and left the room.

Kurt slid on to the bed next to Blaine, and pulled him into a hug. “Not exactly what we wanted to hear, huh?”

Blaine shook his head, concentrating on the warmth of his husband’s body against his own. They sat like this for a few minutes, when Blaine’s phone buzzed with a text. 

“The van can be here in fifteen minutes,” he said, looking at Kurt. “We can go now, right?”

“Let me check.” Kurt got off the bed and went into the hallway. Blaine could hear him talking with one of the nurses, polite and calm as always. He wondered sometimes when Kurt had become the well mannered one of the two of them. Kurt was always smoothing ruffled feathers these days, Blaine’s as well as everyone else’s they had to deal with in maneuvering around Blaine’s bizarre situation.

Kurt returned, an odd look on his face. “You’re good to go. But… it is okay if I meet you there? I need to stop back at the apartment. The nurse can take you downstairs.”

“Of course,” Blaine said automatically. It wasn’t surprising that Kurt needed a break, after the day they’d had. No matter that it wasn’t Kurt himself being poked and prodded, he knew it was stressful for him as well. “I’ll probably just take an escape sleep nap when I get back to my room anyway. Take as long as you want, just wake me up when you get there.” Blaine tried for a reassuring smile, but Kurt’s reaction showed he didn’t quite nail it.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean at all. And don’t take a nap.”

“No?”

“No,” Kurt said more confidently. “Put on some clothes that don’t smell of hospital, and I’ll be there soon. It’s just a short detour, no more than ten minutes or so.”

Blaine huffed out a laugh. “I like how you think I can change my clothes in ten minutes.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Stay in your comfy clothes, take a nap, do whatever you want. But don’t look so glum. I’ve got a surprise for you. A good surprise.”

“Yeah?” Blaine could use something cheerful to take his mind off things right now.

“Yeah.” Kurt gave him a nervous grin and a quick peck on the lips, and then he was gone. 

Soon Blaine was in the van, on his way back to the center. Arriving in his room, he let the orderly help him find his clothes, and then shooed him out as he shut himself in the bathroom. Changing his pants bore too close a resemblance to a gymnastic workout, but Blaine had finally agreed that Kurt could bring him some shorts. Although he still thought his legs looked weird, the pleated khaki shorts were much easier to get on than jeans, and were more comfortable in the hot summer weather, anyway.

Blaine pulled on a dark red polo, fought his way into his shorts, and managed to stand propped against the sink long enough to tuck in his shirt and get a nice leather belt on, too. Feeling rather accomplished, he played with his hair a little, adding a bit of gel to give his curls some definition. If Kurt was up to something, the least Blaine could do was dress for the party.

It was more like half an hour before Kurt arrived, bustling into the room with an obvious air of excitement. 

"Hey, sweetheart," Kurt said, quickly crossing to Blaine where he sat on his bed. Kurt gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then looked him over appreciatively. "You look great."

Blaine smiled, reaching out to trace the diamond shaped pin on Kurt's paisley shirt. Kurt had traded his white jeans for even tighter dark blue ones, and the green and purple pattern on his shirt was as bright as his smile. His hair even managed to stay perfect, despite the heat. Three years may have gone by, but his husband was as gorgeous as ever.

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself." Blaine slid his hand down to Kurt's wrist and tugged him in for another kiss, letting his other hand cup Kurt's cheek. He teased at Kurt's lips with his tongue, a small part of his mind urging himself to just let go and enjoy the moment despite their general lack of privacy. But just as he was considering this, Kurt pulled back. 

Blaine was surprised - lately it had been Blaine keeping the pace slow, and he had thought that Kurt would be eager to let things heat up a bit. "Um..." Blaine wasn't sure how to raise the issue, but Kurt wasn't really paying attention anyway, his eyes flickering towards the door. Blaine followed his gaze, and suddenly the reason for Kurt's reluctance to engage in an impromptu make-out session became clear.

"Knock-knock, can we come in?" Carole chirped, bustling into Blaine's room, followed immediately by Burt. "Oh, Blaine, honey, it is _so_ good to see you." Carole wrapped Blaine in a tight hug, and planted an enthusiastic kiss on his cheek. She stepped back, keeping a hand on Blaine's arm. "I'll stop being weird in a minute, I promise, but I just can't get over how you look." 

"Awake?" Burt said, coming over to take his turn. "'Cause other than that, he looks just the same to me." Burt hugged Blaine tightly, almost letting go before giving him one more squeeze. "You gotta forgive us, kid," he whispered into Blaine's ear, "there’s no easy way to say how thankful we are that you're back." Blaine warmed, touched by the heartfelt sentiment in Burt's words. But he really wasn’t sure what to say in response. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to process this new development. He knew that Burt and Carole had wanted to visit, but he hadn’t realized they were coming _today,_ and the element of surprise had thrown him.

Kurt cleared his throat, and everyone turned to see him glaring at Burt. "You were supposed to text me first, not just barge in here."

"What, did we interrupt some afternoon delight?" Burt asked, chuckling. "I'd say I'm sorry, but we haven't seen Blaine here in far too long. I'm sure you can pick up later where you left off."

Blaine had learned long ago that Burt's good natured teasing came from a place of love, and the fact that Burt's hand was still firmly planted on Blaine's shoulder only served to emphasize the fact. 

"It's great to see you both," Blaine said, finally getting the words out. "This is a wonderful surprise."

"Hardly compares to the one you gave us, Blaine," Burt said, looking intently at Blaine as if he was judging how likely he was to slip back into a coma.

"Best surprise ever," Kurt murmured, sliding his way past Carole and focusing his gaze on Blaine, his blue eyes shining with emotion. 

Blaine patted the spot next to him on the bed and Kurt jumped up, leaning against Blaine. Blaine knew that the fact of his near miraculous awakening was still hard for Kurt to talk about. He slid his hand around Kurt's waist, hoping to comfort him. "So, what brings you guys to New York?" Blaine asked, trying to take the focus off himself. 

Burt gave Blaine a pointed look and Carole just laughed. "Well, we're not here for the fresh air," she joked. "We came to see you, of course."

Blaine flushed. Of course they had, it was just so strange to keep having these reunions with people. People who actually did look older than when he had last seen them, even Kurt’s young at heart parents. No matter how much Blaine thought about it, it was hard to get his head around what had happened to him. 

Carole seemed to sense his discomfort, and turned to Kurt to change the subject. "Now, Kurt, your apartment does have air conditioning, right? Because based on how hot and steamy it is outside, if it doesn’t, we're going to be very sorry campers."

Kurt nodded. "Yes, it does, although I told you guys I’d put you up in a hotel room…" Burt’s protest that the couch was more than good enough was cut off when Kurt's stomach, apparently not interested in rehashing the topic, let out a loud grumble. 

"Well, that's our cue," Burt said. "Come on, Kurt, let's go pick up dinner."

Kurt shot a quick glance at Blaine. "That okay with you?"

"Sure," Blaine said, trying to look natural, whatever that was these days. It wasn't as if he was going to disappear while Kurt went down the block for take-out, but sometimes Kurt looked worried that he might do just that.

"I'll stay and keep Blaine company," Carole said, patting Blaine on the arm. Blaine was glad he didn’t mind people touching him, because everyone seemed to want to pet him these days. 

After a short debate they decided on Chinese food, and Kurt and his father left to hunt down an appropriate restaurant, Kurt having decided after their last take-out meal that actually laying eyes on a place before ordering for the first time was a good idea.

Carole busied herself pulling chairs over to the small table and then looked back at Blaine, frowning. "Do you want one of these chairs, or will you sit in your wheelchair?"

"I'm good with one of those," Blaine said, appreciating how Carole just asked him straight out. 

"Well, then why don't you come over here and sit with me?" she suggested.

Blaine slid to the edge of the bed, just able to reach the walker where he had left it near the nightstand, and eased his feet on to the floor. It was a short distance from there to the table, but Blaine still felt a glimmer of pride as he made it without incident. 

As he settled himself in the chair next to Carole, she pulled something out of her large handbag and set it on the table. It was a round blue tin decorated with sparkling silver snowflakes, and he knew exactly where Carole had gotten it.

"Carole? Is this...?"

"It's the tin you brought to our house at Christmas, the winter before your accident," Carole said softly. "Here." She pushed it toward him.

Blaine picked it up, and realized from the weight that it wasn't empty. He raised an eyebrow at Carole, who just waved at it. "Go ahead, open it."

Blaine twisted the lid and then pulled it off, immediately struck by the sight that greeted him. "Raspberry thumbprints," he breathed out, his heart picking up speed. The little shortbread cookies were arranged carefully amidst tissue paper, the bright red jam topping giving off a sweet aroma.

"I know your mom always made these cookies for you on special occasions. After you brought them to our house that Christmas, I liked them so much, I asked her for the recipe." Carole paused to take a breath, and then went on, her voice tender. "I'm sure she didn't realize she wouldn't be able to keep making them for you for many years to come. But if it's okay with you, I'd like to do it sometimes."

Blaine couldn't even think for a minute, he was so overwhelmed. But Carole just set her hand on his and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm so sorry about your mother," Carole said softly, catching Blaine's gaze. She and Burt had said as much over the phone, but being here with her, seeing the pain in her eyes, was a whole different, infinitely harder thing. "I wish I could have kept in better touch with her after your accident. But I understood her need to retreat. Losing a child..." Carole's voice caught in her throat. 

"Carole, you don't have to-"

"No, I do. Just listen for a minute." Carole sat up and squared her shoulders, but kept her kind eyes locked on Blaine's. "I'm a mom who has lost a son, and you are a son who has lost a mom. I want you to understand that I'm here for you. However you want me. It's not as if we weren't already family, but... I believe it would soothe Pam, if she knew I was looking out for you. Just as I hope it gives Kurt's mom a measure of peace to know I'm watching out for him."

Blaine could feel tears running down his cheeks as he nodded at Carole. "Okay. Yes. Thank you." 

Carole gave him another hug, and he sank into it, letting her wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. She wasn't his mom, but she was his family, and there was something undeniably comforting about having a parent watching your back.

Carole rubbed his shoulders, then sat up with a little sigh. "So, you and I aren’t going to go another three years without talking again, right?"

Blaine huffed out a laugh and wiped his eyes. "You guys keep acting like I did this on purpose."

Carole smiled broadly. "Well, Kurt can be a little overbearing at times. Maybe you just needed a break."

Carole was clearly, obviously, joking. But Blaine couldn't do it, couldn't accept the joke for what it was, not when he had been learning, in tiny hints and unspoken words, how painful the past three years had been for Kurt. He tried to smile for Carole, his heart pinching when he realized she saw she had struck a nerve, but before there could be any more awkward apologies Blaine turned away and excused himself to the bathroom.

He was still in there, sitting on the closed toilet seat and trying to figure out how to explain himself, when Burt and Kurt returned. Blaine couldn't make out their whispered conversation, but when Kurt knocked on the bathroom door he heaved himself to his feet, checked his hair in the mirror, and shuffled back out.

"Better get here quick if you want any of these spare ribs," Burt said, as Kurt put an arm around his waist. Blaine knew it wasn't just to steady his balance, as Kurt curled in close for a moment and leaned his head against Blaine's before helping him cross the room and settle into his chair.

The conversation flowed easily enough from there, Burt continuing to explain something about new equipment for the shop, and the decision he was trying to make about how much more to invest in it. He and Kurt had apparently been discussing the issue for some time, as Kurt insisted that standing still wasn’t healthy, that regardless of how many more years Burt thought he would be running the shop, he had to keep up with improvements in the field.

Blaine zoned out for a while, concentrating on eating his lo mein without dumping it on his lap. Finally he gave up on the noodles, and picked up an egg roll instead. He had thought the tremor in his hands was getting better, but it was back in full force tonight. Just another side effect of his long nap, and not a particularly welcome one.

Burt was asking Carole about whether she knew where he had left his reading glasses when Kurt turned towards Blaine. "You okay, honey?" Kurt asked, putting a hand on his thigh.

"Yeah, just tired," Blaine said softly. It was true; it had been a stressful day, and while he was sincerely glad to see Burt and Carole, he wasn't sure he was up for much more excitement.

Burt had apparently heard what he said, though, which was probably just as well. There would be no hiding it when Blaine collapsed on top of the crab Rangoon. 

"I'm not surprised you're tired after the day you've had. We won't keep you up much longer. But before we head out, we’ve got to nail down our plans for tomorrow."

Blaine looked at Kurt, who seemed just as clueless as he was.

"Dad, did you have something particular in mind?"

"I sure do." Burt produced a white envelope with a flourish and placed it on the table. "Tickets to a ball game for the three of us. Carole’s going to spend the day with her cousin. What do you say?"

Kurt opened the envelope and showed Blaine. "Those are great seats," Blaine said. "But..." 

"One of the House reps from New York has a daughter that works for the Yankees. He said if I was ever in town and wanted to take you guys to see a game, she'd set us up." Burt paused, apparently surprised at their lack of excitement. "I know you already took the day off, Kurt - one baseball game won't hurt you."

"I don't think it's that Kurt doesn't want to go, Burt," Blaine said slowly. He wasn't sure how to explain to Burt what he didn't fully understand himself, but the thought of being out all day, trapped in his chair, among all those people... There was a reason that their outings were generally brief and aimed at relatively calm locations, and it wasn't for lack of things to do in the city.

"We'll talk about it, Dad, and I'll let you know later, okay?" Kurt said calmly, sliding the tickets back into the envelope.

Burt still looked puzzled, but he let it go. Soon the remains of their dinner were cleaned up, and Burt and Carole said their goodbyes, each of them giving Blaine a hug that was probably meant to be reassuring. Kurt left too, to walk them down the hall, but returned quickly.

"That was kind of a lot, wasn't it?" Kurt asked. He stood next to Blaine and held out his arms, and Blaine rose and let Kurt help him over to the bed. Without much discussion, soon Blaine was in his t-shirt and sleep pants, Kurt had replaced his tight jeans with a pair of Blaine's sweats, and they were curled up together under the blankets, Blaine's head resting on Kurt's chest. Blaine was trying hard to make sense out of the thoughts swirling around in his brain, but it wasn't until he was able to lay still, Kurt gently rubbing circles on his back, that he began to attempt to articulate any of them.

"I really like baseball," Blaine said finally. 

"I know," Kurt said.

"I've had a lot of time to watch the Yankees this summer. Some of the staff get together in the TV room to watch, and they always let me know when, so I can come, too. It's more fun than watching by myself in here."

Kurt nodded, and Blaine knew he would keep listening until Blaine got to the point.

"I don't know what it would be like to go to a game, though."

"You've been to games before," Kurt said mildly. "You raved about those NYU discount tickets." 

Blaine scoffed, but before he could say anything further, Kurt cut in. "I know you're going to say it's not the same, that things are different now. I know you're self-conscious, and nervous around people. But I'll be with you, and Dad will be, too. We'll take care of you, I promise." Kurt shifted, pushing at Blaine's shoulder so he could look him in the eye. "I don't want you to keep missing out on the things you love."

Blaine thought of how it felt to be at a game, the smell of the hot dogs and popcorn, the crack of a bat hitting the ball and the roar of the crowd. "You really think it'll be okay?" he asked, meaning _You think I'll be okay?_

"I do," Kurt said confidently, letting Blaine nestle back against him. "The only difference from the times you've been before is that now you'll actually be able to see the field."

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, the NYU discount seats really weren’t very good. But I had fun anyway."

"You always seemed to, from the crazy pictures you sent me."

"You loved them." Kurt hadn't come along with Blaine and his college a capella group on their baseball outings, so Blaine had made sure to text him about all the important moments. 

"I love _you,_ " Kurt said, pressing a kiss to Blaine's curls. "Wait, actually, there will be another important difference this time."

"Oh? What?" From Kurt's amused tone, Blaine didn't think Kurt was talking about his wheelchair.

"Less beer."


	14. Chapter 14

Getting to the baseball game was tougher than Blaine had anticipated. They had decided to save money by taking the subway, but tracking down the elevators at each stop was no easy task, and even when they found them, they were slow and smelled disgusting. Just navigating their way through the crowds with Blaine's chair took forever. 

By the time they got to the stadium in the Bronx, Blaine was already worn out, and he knew Kurt's patience must be waning as well. They passed on the opportunity to go down on the field and see the displays that were set up honoring past ball players, but urged Burt to check it out and meet them at their seats. Burt didn’t seem surprised that Kurt wasn’t interested in seeing the monuments to Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig, among other greats, but he found it difficult to believe Blaine didn’t want to accompany him, and grumbled a bit as he headed off by himself. “He’ll just have to live with the disappointment,” Kurt quipped, stopping to mop the perspiration off his face before consulting with a staff member as they searched for yet another elevator.

Finally Kurt wheeled Blaine into his assigned spot, and Blaine breathed out a sigh. It was a relief just to be able to stop moving, get his bearings and settle down. The accessible seats were located at the top of the section, and Blaine felt a quick flash of vertigo as he looked down at the steep incline of seats below them. But Kurt had bought them a program, and he quickly engaged Blaine in a conversation about how each of the players had been doing. Not only did it take Blaine’s mind off his fears, but it caused Burt to do a double take when he showed up.

"Didn't think you cared much about this kind of thing," Burt said, indicating that Kurt should move over so he could sit between them - having already made clear that he would be sitting next to Blaine so that the two baseball fans among them could enjoy themselves together.

"Didn't think you cared much about bowling," Kurt replied dryly, referring to Burt's newfound passion, discovered abruptly when it turned out that Carole loved to bowl.

"Fine. But let Blaine talk with someone who actually knows something about the game, okay?"

Blaine smiled and happily let Burt fill him in on what strategy he thought the team should employ today, the latest gossip about the new Yankees pitcher, and the hot shot hitter on the opposing team who Burt thought had peaked too early.

As the game got started, Blaine felt himself relaxing. It was a beautiful afternoon, his team was winning, and every so often Kurt would shoot him a fond look, usually when Blaine was cheering at something Kurt could care less about. Kurt was looking particularly cute tonight, Blaine thought. His hair was starting to flop just slightly from the heat, and his eyes were shining dark blue, reflecting the color of his tight short-sleeve henley. Blaine realized he was staring when Burt cleared his throat meaningfully, but Kurt caught the whole thing and just beamed.

Blaine tried to focus on the game, and thought for the most part he was doing pretty well. He had explained to Kurt that each player had specific music that was played when they went up to bat, and they enjoyed bouncing along to the songs, although Blaine didn’t recognize all of them. The crowd around them was relatively well behaved, not nearly as drunk as they could have been, and with Burt on one side of him and the aisle on the other, he didn’t feel too boxed in. It was frustrating, though, each time everyone stood up to cheer, effectively blocking Blaine's view. A new day, a new way in which being in a wheelchair is a challenge, he thought. 

By the third time the crowd began to do "the wave" Blaine psyched himself up to join in. Bracing himself with his hands on the arms of his chair, he pushed himself to his feet just at the right time... and suddenly his head was spinning. He felt strong arms around him and Burt's voice in his ear, and then he was sitting down next to Kurt, both of them hovering over him and talking at once.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Blaine protested, but he recognized the high tone in Kurt's voice and realized he must not look particularly okay.

"Buddy, what happened there? You gave us a scare," Burt said, perching himself in Blaine's abandoned wheelchair, but still keeping a tight grip on Blaine’s shoulder.

"I don't know, I just got a little lightheaded," Blaine said, trying adamantly not to let himself remember the feeling - like he was about to fall over and all the way down...

"He has trouble with balance, Dad, we shouldn't have -- Blaine, you shouldn't have --"

"Kurt, I'm okay," Blaine said, his voice less shaky this time. "Hey, look at me." He finally caught Kurt's eyes, wide with shock. "Come here." He pulled Kurt towards him until he got the picture and sat down gingerly on Blaine's lap. "See, that's good, right? Now I'm not going anywhere." It actually did make Blaine feel better, less like he might just topple over. Safe.

They clung together for a moment. Blaine could feel Kurt slowly relax against him. Kurt’s weight on him felt good, grounding him. He wound his fingers into Kurt’s hair, and Kurt didn’t even protest as Blaine wrecked his carefully arranged coif. Kurt just settled closer, nestling his face against Blaine’s head, and taking increasingly calmer breaths. Blaine realized with a start that Burt was still standing there looking at them, a concerned expression on his face, and he gave Kurt’s arm a squeeze. Kurt reluctantly looked up, but the look on his father’s face didn’t seem to bother him.

"Dad, um," Kurt coughed and tried again, forcing his voice back into a semblance of normalcy. "We’re fine. Really. How about you go get Blaine a bottle of water?"

"And maybe a pretzel?" Blaine added, earning an oddly similar wry smile from both father and son.

Burt chuckled. “You two never cease to amaze me,” he said under his breath. “In a good way,” he amended. Burt shrugged his shoulders and left, presumably in search of the requested snacks. Kurt sighed softly and let his head fall onto Blaine's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I scared you," Blaine said. He didn’t seem to be able to keep from doing this to Kurt these days, and he hated being the source of his husband’s anxiety. 

"I overreacted," Kurt said, running his hand up and down Blaine's arm. "Besides, it's not as if you could actually fall very far."

He was right, of course. Although the seats were steeply sloped, there were people sitting in almost all of them, and while tipping over and landing on the teenage girls in front of them would have been embarrassing, it was unlikely to have been fatal.

"For a minute there, I really did feel like I was going to fall at the way down," Blaine said softly. “That's weird, right?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. Remember when we had those student seats at the Met, way at the top? I wasn't clinging to you because I was moved by the emotionally fraught performance of _La Traviata._. I was afraid I was going to literally fall to my death."

"People have actually fallen, you know," Blaine couldn’t help but comment.

Kurt looked around, his hand gripping Blaine’s arm tighter. "Here?"

"No, at the Met," Blaine replied. He had read about it somewhere. "I don’t know if people have fallen here. The stadium’s pretty new, I’d hope they’d build it so it would be safe.”

“But they fell at the Met?”

“Yup. They didn't die, though."

"I should hope not,” Kurt mumbled. “Way to make opera even less fun.”

Blaine covered his ears, giggling. "I did not just hear you say that."

"Come on, you only pretended to like it to annoy Sam. And then he got you those tickets and you made him go with you..."

"We actually had a good time," Blaine protested. In fact they had had an awesome night, mostly because he and Sam had made up a whole new Nightbird and Blond Chameleon storyline while they were there; it involved an evil villain who threatened to shut down the opera house if his demands weren't met. Sam insisted the plot wasn't too close to that of _Phantom,_ and it wasn't as if they were ever going to publish it, so Blaine let it go. He felt a sudden pang of longing for the silly brand of fun he and Sam used to have. Sam never failed to make him smile.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Blaine asked, shifting Kurt a little to try to make him more comfortable in the narrow seat.

Kurt looked at him quizzically. "Of course."

"How's Sam doing these days?"

Blaine regretted his question when he saw Kurt's face fall. "I don't really know. I get the basic update from Rachel, but nothing deep. He's still running the glee club at McKinley. He had a few girlfriends, but nothing serious, as far as I’ve heard." Kurt twisted in his lap, catching his gaze. "I thought you had been talking to him?"

"Yeah, but it feels really superficial. Like you said, just the basics. Nothing deep."

There was a pause, while Kurt found Blaine’s hand and rubbed at the ring on his finger. "Sam took your accident really hard."

That was sweet, Blaine thought, but didn't make a lot of sense. Classic Sam. "It's not like it was his fault or anything, right? Didn't you say it was a drunk driver?" Suddenly Blaine’s stomach clenched. “It wasn’t Sam that hit me, was it?”

"Oh, no, god no, nothing like that. It was a drunk driver, an elderly man that had one too many at his grandson’s birthday party. But,” Kurt looked away, taking a deep breath, and Blaine could tell this was difficult for Kurt to talk about. “You guys were going to the movies together that night, and you were on your way to pick Sam up when you got hit. So Sam kept saying that if he had been picking you up instead, or if you had gone to a later movie, or if you had decided to stay in and play video games, or anything different at all, it wouldn't have happened."

"It happened in Lima?" Blaine thought he should have known this, but somehow, he didn’t.

Kurt nodded. "You were home for a few weeks after graduation, staying with your mom."

"Were you there?"

Kurt pursed his lips and shook his head. "I stayed in New York. I was auditioning... I didn't want to miss an opportunity..." Kurt’s voice was shaking, and he was clearly trying to hold it together.

"Hey, now, it's okay. It's no more your fault than it was Sam's." Blaine pulled Kurt close, rubbing his shaking shoulders. "I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to upset you."

“No, I’m all right,” Kurt said, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out with a slow exhale. "I just keep thinking that all the painful stuff has come up already, that we’ve got it all out there, but then it turns out there's more." 

The crowd roared at some achievement down on the field, but neither of them paid it any attention. 

“I wish this didn’t hurt you so much,” Blaine said sadly. “Every time we talk… and you always seem so worried…”

“Don’t be silly,” Kurt said, poking Blaine in the side where he was most ticklish, until he was forced to smile. “Honestly, do you think I’d trade any of this?” Kurt sat up straighter, grabbed Blaine’s hand in his and looked around. “We’re sitting here in Yankee stadium, casually discussing how you almost died, and waiting for my dad to bring us a pretzel. Six months ago I would have given anything to think we’d be here. I will gladly – so very, very gladly – go through every painful conversation we can come up with, since it means you are here to actually converse with. And don’t you ever think otherwise.” 

Blaine knew he was blushing, but he couldn’t help it, and he buried his face in Kurt’s neck. “I love you, Kurt,” he said, holding on tight.

“I love you too,” Kurt replied fervently. “So very much.”

Blaine smiled into Kurt’s skin. "It's a good thing there’s no one sitting behind us, otherwise they’d be getting quite a dramatic show tonight."

"Hmm," Kurt agreed, nodding. "I think it might also be a good thing if I get up. Otherwise I'm going to permanently cut off circulation in your legs, and that would seriously hamper your physical therapy efforts."

"I suppose you're right." As Kurt got up Blaine shifted in the hard seat, still holding on to Kurt with one hand. He wasn’t dizzy anymore, but he was reluctant to let go of Kurt nonetheless.

"I'm not going anywhere," Kurt reassured him, perching himself so that he was still a little bit in front of Blaine. 

"I'm okay," Blaine said, as much to himself as to Kurt.

"I know. Me too."

Just as the crowd let out a collective groan, Burt appeared in the aisle, balancing an armload of overpriced game food. "What's the score?" he asked.

"We're winning," Blaine said confidently, and a glance at Kurt's smiling face confirmed that it was true, regardless of what the scoreboard might say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My posting schedule is going to be a little different for the next few weeks, since I'll be away for a lot of this time. This chapter is going up a day early, and then the next will go up tomorrow; the one after that will be a week later.
> 
> Let me know how you liked their trip to Yankee stadium!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine finally gets to come home.

After the welcome but chaotic hustle and bustle of having his parents visit, Kurt was relieved when they finally went home. He thought that Blaine was too; as much as he enjoyed being fussed over, it also served to draw attention to what had happened to him. Sometimes he thought Blaine just wanted everything to go back to normal. Kurt had to admit that he wanted it, too.

Over the next few days they returned to what had become their routine: Kurt worked at Vogue for most of the day, while Blaine focused on physical therapy, including exercises designed to improve his balance. Then Kurt stopped at home, put together something for them to eat if it wasn’t a take-out night, and came over to the center. They spent their evenings watching movies or playing the piano, sometimes going out for ice cream or just a walk in the park, if it wasn’t too hot outside. 

Friday afternoon Kurt was just packing up to leave the office when he got a text from Blaine. 

**Bring me a suitcase!**

Kurt frowned. The last he checked, the elevator was still broken, and there was no practical way for Blaine to come home yet without it working. But he wasn’t going to argue – if Blaine wanted to start getting ready to leave, it was fine by him. 

When he arrived at the center later that afternoon, rolling suitcase in tow, Blaine was clearly excited. 

“So, guess what?” he said, grinning widely.

Kurt couldn’t help but press a smacking kiss to Blaine’s adorable face. “I don’t know, what?”

“Okay, promise you won’t get mad?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Why on earth would I get mad?”

“Just promise.”

“Fine.”

“So,” Blaine began, “you remember Sebastian?”

Kurt made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “You idiot, of course I remember Sebastian.” He didn’t know where this was going, but he hoped it went soon, and not in the direction of Sebastian conveniently living in New York in a penthouse apartment with a working elevator, a valet driver, and a spare bedroom.

“Remember his older brother Cameron?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Well,” Blaine was practically bouncing up and down, and Kurt sat down next to him on the bed and hooked a finger into his belt. “Cam works in the mayor’s office. The _New York City_ mayor’s office. Guess what he does there?”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Kurt said dryly.

“He works in the Department of Buildings! And you know what they do?”

Kurt shook his head.

“Elevators!”

Kurt was beginning to get the picture. “Are you saying…?”

“Wes talked to our landlord a few days ago, and apparently the elevator was fixed, it just needed some kind of inspection from the city. And he tried just calling the mayor’s office, but they never got back to him. But Trent said he thought someone from Dalton worked in the mayor’s office, he had read it in some alumni publication-”

“Trent? When did you talk to Trent?”

“Wes told me he wanted to talk, so I called him last week. But anyway, we started looking up and emailing all the Dalton people we could think of, and we found Cameron!”

“And did you talk to him?”

“I did.” Blaine grinned widely. “And he promised to have someone go look at the elevator immediately. Like, today or tomorrow.” He threw his arms around Kurt, knocking him flat on his back on the bed. “I can come home!”

“That’s awesome,” Kurt agreed, shifting to lift them back up. But to his surprise, Blaine didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and began kissing him with a passion that had been altogether too rare in their recent interactions. Kurt smiled into the kiss, and happily went along, letting Blaine nip at his lips and pressing a hand firmly against his lower back to draw him closer. 

Blaine hummed appreciatively. He moved his knee over Kurt’s leg, and began sucking kisses down his neck. Blaine was breathing harder now, and the feel of his hands in Kurt’s hair and on his chest was getting Kurt ridiculously turned on.

All of a sudden there was a squeak and a flustered “sorry” from the doorway, and they quickly pulled apart. Kurt didn’t even manage to see who had been at the door, but Blaine’s flushed face and shocked expression clearly indicated that the moment was over. 

Kurt reached out to tug Blaine back against him. “It’s okay, relax,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “Nobody cares.”

“I care,” Blaine said shyly, digging his face into Kurt’s neck.

“I know. But hey, you’ll be home soon and we won’t have to worry about anyone interrupting us, right?”

Blaine nodded. 

“Although, if we didn’t wait… imagine the look on Marta’s face when she did the laundry…”

“Kurt!”

*****

The next morning Wes came with Kurt to the center to help with the move. In the end Blaine didn’t have that much stuff, but between the walker, the wheelchair, and his exercise equipment, plus a suitcase full of clothes, and various odds and ends, along with the rather emotional moments when Blaine said goodbye to Jenny and some of the other staff, Kurt was glad to have the help.

He was also glad when Wes quickly took his leave after getting everything inside the apartment. Kurt was dying to have some time alone with Blaine, even if they didn’t do anything except stare into each other’s eyes.

Unfortunately, Blaine wasn’t even looking at him. His husband was sitting primly on the couch, his knees pressed together and hands clasped on his lap.

Kurt sat down next to him, trying to catch his gaze.

“You okay, honey?”

Blaine nodded, and looked up at Kurt with sad eyes. “It feels different.” He took a deep breath, and turned his body towards Kurt. “I thought it would feel like home, and it does… sort of. But also different.”

Kurt scanned the apartment, trying to see if anything was out of place. He had scurried around like crazy the night before, making sure that everything was ready for Blaine’s arrival, but he didn’t think Blaine was talking about whether the shelves were dusted properly. 

“Really, not much has changed,” Kurt said. “I haven’t gotten any new furniture… the coffee table still wobbles,” he said with a little smile, pushing on the corner of the table to demonstrate.

“I know,” Blaine said, looking down at his lap again. “I can’t explain it.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” Kurt said, nudging his shoulder against Blaine’s, but Blaine didn’t respond. Kurt’s heart clenched. He had so wanted Blaine’s first day back at home to go well, but he hadn’t anticipated this. “Well, let’s see. Are you hungry? I made a nice pasta salad with vinaigrette; it’s got chicken and that broccoli rabe that you like. Some French bread, too.”

“Sure.”

But although Kurt plated up the pasta prettily in their colorful dishes – the same ones they had always had – Blaine just picked at it. 

“Blaine, are you sure you’re okay?”

Blaine didn’t reply, then just shook his head, pressing his lips tightly together.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Kurt said softly, scooting his chair closer to Blaine’s.

“I don’t know, I just feel weird. I’m sorry…” Blaine glanced up at the pictures Kurt had arranged on the refrigerator, old ones that had never come down, and new ones of the two of them from the past few months. 

“Do you want me to take those down?” Kurt asked, waving a hand at the photos. “I just wanted to have you around, you know. So I could remember, all the time, that you were back.” His throat was tight, and he wished he knew what to do. He had thought Blaine would be ecstatic to be back home.

Of course, Blaine had thought so too, he realized with a pang. Kurt stood up and placed his hands gently on Blaine’s shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever you’re feeling is okay.”

Blaine looked up at him through his lashes. “I’m sorry…”

“No, you’ve got to stop saying that, don’t be sorry. We knew this wasn’t going to be easy, everyone told us so. But I know we can handle it.” 

Blaine nodded silently.

“What would you say to a nap?” Kurt suggested.

Blaine glanced at his watch. “It’s not even one o’clock,” he replied flatly.

“Yeah, but that’s when a nap feels the best, right? When you don’t really need one, but you can do it anyway?”

The edge of Blaine’s mouth twitched, and he couldn’t help but smile at Kurt. “I thought you said that was nonsense.”

“Well, maybe you finally convinced me.”

They made their way to the bedroom, Blaine slinging an arm over Kurt’s shoulders, and Kurt wrapping his arm around Blaine’s waist. Blaine didn’t seem to want to bother with changing his clothes, so they just curled into bed together, Blaine tucking himself tightly against Kurt. “This feels nice,” Blaine said softly, relaxing against him.

“It really does.” Kurt lets his hand rub lazily up and down Blaine’s back, feeling the strong muscles there through his polo. Blaine had come a long way in the past few months, working every day on his physical therapy, and it showed. As Kurt moved his hand over Blaine’s body, Blaine made an appreciative noise, squirming a little under Kurt’s hand.

“Back rub?” Blaine finally asked, raising his head to look at Kurt.

“Sure.” 

Blaine sat up, untucked his shirt from his shorts and pulled it off over his head, then quickly lay back down, looking decidedly happier than he had a few minutes ago. Kurt dashed off to the bathroom and came right back, Blaine giving him a quizzical look. “Body oil,” Kurt said, shrugging.

“Mmm,” Blaine responded, as Kurt popped open the lid of the bottle and began dribbling some on Blaine’s back. “Smells good. Sandalwood?”

“Yup.”

They were quiet for a few minutes as Kurt massaged Blaine’s back, starting with one shoulder, then the other, and working his way down. Blaine was relaxed, breathing easily and occasionally groaning in appreciation when Kurt pushed his thumb into a particularly sore spot. After a while Kurt lay down next to Blaine, still running a hand over his back, but more occupied with looking into Blaine’s eyes than massaging his muscles.

“I remember when you did this before,” Blaine said softly.

Kurt smiled easily. “We used to do this a lot.”

“No, I mean… a while ago, but… at the center. After I woke up.”

Kurt could feel his heart pound and he stilled his hand on Blaine’s back. That had been so long ago, in some respects. Blaine had hardly been able to move. He wasn’t able to speak. And Kurt had been so, so anxious to connect with him. And so worried that he wouldn’t be able to.

“I remember, too,” Kurt said softly.

“I was so scared, Kurt,” Blaine said, his eyes growing wide. “But having you with me meant everything. That day… it was like your love was just pouring out of your hands into my skin. I remember lying there, just wanting it to never end, for you to never stop touching me.” Blaine turned and pressed his face into the pillow. “I’m sorry, that’s too cheesy even for me.”

“It’s not,” Kurt breathed out, warmth flooding through him. He slid closer to Blaine and kissed his nose. “It’s not.” 

Blaine turned his face back, blinking, and smiled. “Want me to do you?” he asked, wiggling his “magic fingers” at Kurt.

Kurt grinned. “Sure.” He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt, then whipped off his undershirt, and turned to lay on his stomach – which, for some inexplicable reason, seemed to be filled with butterflies at the thought of Blaine giving him a back rub. Blaine shuffled around a bit awkwardly, finally sitting up and maneuvering himself so that he was straddling Kurt. But as Blaine reached for the massage oil he slipped, flopping down, landing half on Kurt’s back and half on the bed.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Blaine cursed. "I lost my balance." He didn’t immediately try to sit up, and Kurt knew he was embarrassed.

"Hey," Kurt said, turning over under Blaine and facing him. "There's really no need to apologize. We're laying here together half naked in our bed, and you're pressing me into the mattress." Kurt caught Blaine's eyes and smiled mischievously. "Nothing in this situation is a problem for me."

Blaine ducked his head, blushing. Kurt smoothed a hand down Blaine’s back, his skin still silky from the sandalwood oil, then leaned in to brush his lips softly across Blaine's cheek. Blaine had shaved himself this morning before Kurt had arrived at the center, and there was only the barest hint of stubble here and there. Blaine smiled at the touch, and turned his head to kiss Kurt back. Within moments things were heating up, Blaine reaching up to cup Kurt's cheek, his mouth falling open and his tongue darting out to lick Kurt's lips. When Blaine moved to Kurt's neck, pressing hot kisses into the skin under Kurt's ear, Kurt let out a soft moan. After so long, Kurt could hardly believe this was happening. Maybe this was finally the “when we get home” moment Blaine had been waiting for. But then before it could go any further, Blaine pulled back, a hand on Kurt's chest.

"You okay?" Kurt asked, trying to get his breathing under control. It was like he was a teenager again, he had gotten wound up so fast.

Blaine just nodded and lay back, eyes focused on the ceiling.

Kurt gently set a hand on Blaine's arm. He was trembling. "Sweetheart, what is it? Tell me."

"No, it's... I'm fine."

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to, we were just going to rest now anyway-"

"I do want to," Blaine burst out, "I'm just really..." He trailed off.

"Whatever you want is fine with me." Kurt shifted, and pushed a curl off Blaine's forehead where it lay just over his scar. He wasn't sure, but he thought Blaine almost looked disappointed. "Don't put so much pressure on yourself."

Blaine turned to Kurt, eyes locking on his. "I wanted our first time here - back here - to be perfect. And I can't even move right, I can't control my own body..."

"Blaine..." Kurt pushed himself up on an elbow, looking his husband in the eye. "Any time we share together is going to be wonderful. It has been, and it will be. Just messing around with you makes me happy." He gave him a sly look, letting his gaze flicker briefly downward. "You know it does."

Blaine huffed. "That's not what I meant."

"Well, since when have any of our first times been graceful? I seem to remember you giving me a rather spectacular blow job that ruined a one of a kind McQueen scarf."

"Oh my god, Kurt, you didn't just bring that up," Blaine cried, burying his head against Kurt's chest. "I had no idea there'd be so much!"

"And was it any less perfect a first blow job because we had some logistical difficulties? I can tell you with certainty that it wasn’t." Kurt pushed at Blaine's head until he was looking at him again. "I love you. I love everything we do together. If you're not ready for more now, it's okay. If you are, that's okay too."

"What if I can't tell?"

Kurt smiled, giving Blaine a gentle kiss. "Then listen to your body and do what feels good. You're safe with me, sweetheart. Just let yourself be."

Blaine seemed satisfied with this, and let Kurt snuggle against him, Kurt’s head on Blaine’s chest this time. Kurt liked to listen to Blaine’s heartbeat, and brush his fingers through the sprinkling of hair on Blaine’s chest. There had been no mention of waxing since Blaine regained consciousness, and Kurt had no intention of bringing it up. 

It was several hours later when Kurt woke up, not sure whether to be dismayed or not that they had whiled away their afternoon together fast asleep. But the way Blaine’s face lit up when he woke and realized that he was at home in their bed was a beautiful sight.

“I’m home,” he said, grinning at Kurt and reaching out to tug at Kurt’s bangs. “With you.”

“With me. Where you belong.” Kurt gathered Blaine close and hugged him, his hands still a little oily from the back rub. “We should probably get up.”

“What time is it?” Blaine mumbled, turning over and burying his head in a pillow.

“Nearly four.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe we slept for that long.”

Blaine turned back to Kurt. “I was supposed to do P.T. this afternoon. Should I do it now?”

“Sure.” Kurt pressed a quick kiss to Blaine’s lips and heaved himself up. “Want me to get your stuff?”

Blaine nodded, and so Kurt put his shirt back on and went out to find the handheld weights and resistance equipment Blaine used to exercise in between therapy sessions, along with the little notebook in which he recorded his progress, and brought them back to the bedroom. 

“Thanks.” Blaine had put his shirt back on, too, and was sitting on the bed with a determined expression on his face.

“Do you, um, need any help?”

Blaine shook his head. “Nope, I’m good.” He looked at Kurt. “Feel free to…” he waved his hand, indicating that Kurt should leave the room, so he did. Kurt hadn’t helped Blaine much with his exercises for weeks, and he understood that it was something Blaine wanted to be able to do on his own. Which was fine, as Kurt could easily use the time to check his email, and maybe think about what to do for dinner.

Either of which would have been productive activities, he thought an hour later, having somehow wasted the entire time looking at cat videos and messing around on Facebook.

By the time Blaine had taken a shower and joined Kurt on the couch, his curls still dripping onto his purple NYU t-shirt, Kurt had decided that there was no way he was going to get any work done today. Having Blaine back home was just too distracting. And wonderful.

They snacked on some carrots and yogurt dip while Blaine played with the remote, trying to find a movie for them to watch. There had been a few new installments in the never-ending Avengers series, but Blaine seemed more interested in re-watching something he had already seen than catching up on what he’d missed. He finally settled on _Say Anything_ , and Kurt nodded his approval of the classic rom-com. 

“I can’t believe Mr. Schue sang “In Your Eyes” to Ms. Pillsbury,” Kurt said, settling against the back of the couch and pulling Blaine snugly up against his chest.

Blaine shifted around, getting the throw pillows arranged just right under their heads, and then stretching out his legs along Kurt’s. “He did. We all sang back-up. I even brought him my boom box to use.”

“Why am I not surprised that you had a boom box,” Kurt commented.

“Sam wanted him to just use an iPod, but that wouldn’t have been nearly as romantic.”

“Clearly not.”

Even from behind him Kurt could see Blaine’s smile crinkling his face, and he slid his arm down for Blaine to lean on. The movie began, and they both relaxed. They had watched a hundred movies on this couch, marathoned dozens of television shows, and somehow Kurt never thought that just being here together could feel so ridiculously good.

Kurt took Blaine’s free hand in his, curled their hands up together against Blaine’s chest, and let himself zone out. After a while Blaine shifted to adjust the volume, keeping a hold of the remote, and Kurt let his hand rest on Blaine’s thigh. He couldn’t help but smile – Blaine was wearing the navy shorts with little red lobsters embroidered on them that he had bought him on a whim a few weeks ago. Their time in New York hadn’t done much to alter Blaine’s inner preppy, and for that Kurt was grateful.

Without really noticing it, Kurt began softly running his hand along Blaine’s leg, letting his fingers slide up under the edge of his shorts, enjoying the warm feel of his skin and the scratch of the hair on his leg. It wasn’t until Blaine shifted restlessly against him that Kurt noticed how far up Blaine’s shorts his fingers had gone, practically teasing with their proximity to his groin. Blaine was beginning to breathe more heavily, clearly affected by Kurt’s unconscious caresses. Almost immediately Kurt’s own body responded, and then he froze, wondering if he had crossed a line.

“No, please, don’t stop,” Blaine whined, moving back against Kurt, his ass now firmly pressing against Kurt’s cock where it was trapped inside his jeans.

“Are you sure…?” Kurt breathed out, his hand clenching Blaine’s thigh.

“I’m sure,” Blaine responded. “Please, Kurt, it feels so good.”

“But… you wanted…” Kurt had intended to let Blaine lead, to make sure he was comfortable with whatever pace was set, and here he was groping him when they were just trying to watch a movie. But Blaine appeared to be anything but upset.

“I want this. You. Please.” Blaine bucked back against Kurt, his head twisting to look at him. “Touch me.”

Kurt didn’t need any further encouragement. He pulled Blaine on top of him, Blaine’s back to his chest. The arm that had been under Blaine’s head he now stretched around his body, letting his fingers shove up under Blaine’s untucked shirt and roam over his chest. With his other hand he deftly undid the button on Blaine’s shorts, while he wrapped a foot around Blaine’s ankle, pulling him close and spreading his legs just enough. 

“This okay?” Kurt asked, pausing with his hand on Blaine’s zipper. 

Blaine’s chest was heaving, and he reached up behind his own head to grab Kurt’s, arching his back and forcing them even closer. “Yes, so okay.”

Kurt pushed the front of Blaine’s shorts down and let his hand slip inside. As he touched his husband’s cock Blaine jolted, pushing back harder against Kurt. “Oh, god,” Blaine panted. “Yes, please, Kurt.” 

Kurt kept his other hand moving as well, ghosting over the nipple he could reach, and soon Blaine was writhing uncontrollably against him, “oh’s” and “please’s” and less intelligible sounds continuing to fall from his lips. Blaine’s hands were flailing, touching Kurt anywhere he could reach, and his voice was falling lower. “Keep going, Kurt, oh, please, yes,” Blaine moaned. Kurt tried to focus on Blaine, on keeping his pleasure building as long as possible, but with the sounds he was making and the way Blaine’s ass was rhythmically thrusting against him, he wasn’t going to be able to hold off much longer. 

Kurt twisted up, pressing a sloppy but no less heartfelt kiss to Blaine’s jaw, and the change in position allowed Blaine to move his hand around to palm at Kurt’s cock through his jeans. Kurt was ridiculously aroused. He could feel how close he was, and he was helpless to do anything but enjoy it. “Blaine, oh…” he tried to form words, but it was too late. It just felt too good to have his husband back, sexy and open and letting go completely. 

Soon waves of pleasure were crashing over Kurt, and he fought to keep his hand moving on Blaine. Fortunately Blaine was right behind him, coming with a loud moan that surely let all their neighbors know that he was back home. Moments later, they were fighting to catch their breath, Blaine’s arm trapped uncomfortably between them and Kurt’s hand still down Blaine’s shorts, both of them trembling in delight.

Kurt moved out from under Blaine, who turned on his side to face Kurt. How Blaine managed to look so god damned adorable while simultaneously wrecked was beyond him. His hair was a crazy mass of tangled curls, his shirt was wrinkled and shoved up around his chest, and his shorts were tangled around his knees. 

Kurt reached out a shaky hand to push Blaine’s hair out of his face and then realized his hand wasn’t exactly clean. But Blaine just grinned, grabbed it and wiped it off on his shirt, and then kissed Kurt’s palm and set it against his cheek, smiling broadly. “I’m not sure what the hell that even was, but it was amazing.”

“That it was,” Kurt said, marveling at how good it felt to be here with Blaine, sweaty and sticky, and entirely at ease in a way that he could never feel with anyone else. 

“I feel like I should thank you,” Blaine said, tucking their clasped hands up under his chin.

Kurt scanned Blaine’s face, trying to find a hint in his eyes as to what he was thinking about. “For what?” he asked softly.

Blaine shrugged. “For helping me, with this. I couldn’t help thinking about it as a first time, a milestone. And I didn’t feel like I could live up to whatever expectation you might have.”

“I didn’t have any expectations,” Kurt said gently. 

“I get that.” Blaine pressed his lips together. “But I did. Expectations of myself. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me.” Kurt tugged at Blaine’s shirt, straightening it out, and placed his palm over his heart. 

Blaine closed his eyes, and Kurt weaved his fingers into Blaine’s sweaty curls, watching Blaine as he breathed deeply. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at Kurt, a smile darting around the edges of his mouth. “Even though I made you come in your pants?”

Kurt laughed out loud and then shook his head, bringing Blaine close for a sweet kiss. “I can’t remember the last time we did this without even taking off our clothes,” he whispered against Blaine’s cheek. “Maybe the movie brought out our inner teenagers.”

This apparently amused Blaine. “Hi, teenager Kurt!” Blaine said, a goofy smile on his face. “Wanna fool around some more?”

Kurt laughed, rubbing his nose against Blaine’s. “Well, given that I’m no longer an actual teenager, you’re going to have to give me a few minutes to recover.” He glanced down, wincing at the uncomfortable mess in his pants. “And clean up.” He pushed at Blaine’s legs until he could slide off the couch himself, and extended a hand to Blaine. “Want to shower with me?”

A flicker of hesitation danced across Blaine’s face, but then he looked down at how his shorts were falling off his hips, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, but I don’t think I can walk at the moment. You might have to carry me.”

“Anything for you, my prince,” Kurt said dramatically, tugging Blaine to a standing position and then proceeding to scoop him up, bridal style.

“I love you so much,” Blaine said, his eyes shining, as Kurt staggered down the short hallway to their bathroom, hoping like hell he wasn’t going to drop Blaine.

“I love you too,” Kurt said, as he carefully maneuvered them into the tiny bathroom and let Blaine down to sit on the closed toilet lid. “And now I think we both have to agree that shorts are definitely a good thing.”

Blaine slid his shorts and boxers off his legs, shakily pulling them off and tossing them aside. He looked up at Kurt through his lashes, smiling his lovely Blaine smile. “I think we can also agree that no shorts are a good thing, too?”

Kurt helped Blaine up and held him close, running his hands over Blaine’s now naked ass, up under his shirt and then down again. Blaine bit his lip and hummed, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s neck for balance and leaning in to him. “I missed you, sweetheart,” Blaine said softly, tucking his face into Kurt’s shoulder. “I love so you much.”

“I love you too,” Kurt said, his throat tightening as an echo of the enormity of his missing Blaine washed through him. But Blaine was back now, alive and awake and, from the way he was now pressing kisses under Kurt’s jaw, ready for round two. Apparently Blaine’s first day back home was going to be okay after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned, the next chapter won't be posted for a week - but hopefully you liked this one!


	16. Chapter 16

While Blaine’s second day at home included decidedly less _intimacy_ than his first day, it still went well, as far as Kurt was concerned. They got Blaine’s things unpacked, figured out where to store his various exercise equipment, and tried to arrange the apartment as best they could to maximize Blaine’s ease of movement.

After some experimentation, Blaine had decided to just leave the wheelchair in the kitchen, which was really the only room where he could wheel it around anyway. The narrow hallway going back towards their bedroom was short, and once they cleared off the top of the chest-high bookcase that lined most of it, Blaine could lean on that until he reached the door to the bedroom. Once inside, there was hardly any floor space, so he could use the dresser and bed for balance. The bathroom was only a few steps away on the other side of the hall. Blaine moved back and forth a few times between the bedroom and the kitchen with just his cane and the aid of the furniture, and beamed brightly at his success.

Kurt observed with pleasure how happy it made Blaine that he could get around so easily. He had confidence that Blaine would keep improving, that he had every chance of walking unassisted with time. He just wished he could impart some of his confidence to Blaine. 

Sunday night, just as they were cleaning up from dinner, there was a knock on the door. “Expecting anyone?” Blaine asked as Kurt went to answer it.

“Nope.” Kurt raised a questioning eyebrow as he peeked through the hole in the door to see who was there, then opened the door to reveal Santana and Brittany. Brittany dashed in first, running over to Blaine and giving him a big hug, twirling his wheelchair around in a circle, then settling on his lap. Santana sauntered after her, toting a grocery bag which she placed on the table.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Kurt asked, his hand on his hip.

“We brought cake!” Brittany announced. Sure enough, Santana produced a tin foil covered homemade cake with pink frosting, rainbow sprinkles, and the words “Welcome Home” in glitterly purple icing.

“That looks great, Britt, thank you,” Blaine said politely, sliding Britt off of him and on to a chair. Kurt got a few more folding chairs out of the hall closet and opened one up for Santana, who sat herself down with a flourish.

“All right, dessert first, then we talk plans,” Santana said. “Kurt, some plates?”

Kurt shook his head and complied. He didn’t know what Santana was up to, but usually it was best not to interrupt her.

Brittany launched into a story about how hard she had worked to make the cake, and how she wasn’t sure whether Blaine would prefer a pink cake with rainbow sprinkles or a chocolate cake with rainbow sprinkles but she had decided on pink because that was Kurt’s favorite color and Blaine loved Kurt.

“I don’t think pink is Kurt’s favorite color,” Blaine muttered, but apparently Brittany didn’t hear him. Kurt did, though, and had to stifle a laugh as he exchanged amused glances with Blaine.

“You made the right choice, Britt,” Santana said fondly, taking a big forkful of cake. “It’s delicious.” 

After everyone had praised Brittany’s cake, and eaten most of it, Santana pushed back in her chair and propped her feet up on the arm of Blaine’s wheelchair. “So, Sleeping Beauty, we put together a schedule, but I wanted to run it by you in case it conflicted with your therapy sessions.”

“A schedule?” Blaine asked, pushing Santana’s feet down. “For what?”

“Lunch.” Santana pulled out her phone and swiped around for a moment, then, apparently finding what she was looking for, held it out to Blaine. We’re taking you out for lunch for the next few weeks, so you won’t be lonely.”

Kurt felt his stomach drop, and swallowed hard. “Santana, you don’t need to-“

Blaine was on the same page, shaking his head as he blushed furiously. “I don’t need anyone to-“

“Stop, both of you,” Brittany insisted, coming over to where Kurt had placed himself next to Blaine. “We missed, you, Blainey,” she said softly, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek, “and we want to see you. Kurt will be busy, but you won’t, so we’ll get to see you all by yourself.”

“Besides, it’s too late to change it. It’s not just us.”

“What does that mean?” Blaine asked, accepting Brittany’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Well, it isn’t completely firmed up yet, but I think Rachel is doing Wednesdays, Wes is doing Thursdays, Tina’s coming down this Friday, and…” Santana pounded a drum roll on the table and Brittany joined in, making the dishes jingle, “as soon as we can make it happen, Trouty-mouth’s coming to visit!”

Kurt glanced at Blaine, trying to catch his eyes, but they were firmly planted on his lap. “This is really sweet, guys, but Blaine doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. He’s going to be fine.” Kurt put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and gripped it, hoping he was going in the right direction.

“We’re not taking care of him, we’re taking him out to lunch,” Brittany protested. “Come on, Kurt, you’ve had him all to yourself for ages. Why can’t we hang out with him, too?”

Kurt looked at Santana, who was paging through her phone, trying to keep her face neutral. “Really, Santana?”

She looked up, her lips pursed. “Why don’t you let Blaine decide, hm?”

Blaine pulled his attention up from the floor, and looked around at the three of them. “I think it would be nice, actually,” he began, but then put up a hand when Brittany started to cheer. “But not every day.”

“Three times a week, maybe?” Santana suggested.

“Fine,” Blaine agreed.

Later that night, when the girls had left and they were both tucked into bed, they talked about their plans for the next day. Santana and Brittany had agreed to combine their lunch days, so they would both come to take Blaine out to lunch tomorrow, and then Britt would take him over to his physical therapy session. 

“I can get back by myself, though,” Blaine insisted. “She doesn’t have to wait for me.”

Kurt nodded. “If she wants to, though…”

“I know.” It was hard to argue logic with Brittany; they had stopped trying a long time ago. “What does she do for work these days?” Blaine asked.

“It varies, just like it always has. Different kinds of dance projects, music videos, that kind of thing. For a while she was working in a dance studio, but I guess she didn’t like the routine of it, when she had to go to work at the same time every day.”

“It doesn’t bother her, though, does it? At least not most of the time.”

Kurt tilted his head. “What doesn’t?”

“Seeing the world differently than most people.”

Kurt thought about this for a minute. “I don’t think so. Like you say, at least not most of the time.” He slid closer to Blaine, taking his hand and playing with the ring on his finger. “And she’s got Santana, and you, and me.”

“She does.”

“They want us to have a joint party this fall, you know. For our anniversary,” Kurt clarified.

“Six years,” Blaine said, smiling a little sadly. “I wish I didn’t miss our five year anniversary. That’s supposed to be an important one.”

“I wish you didn’t miss any of them,” Kurt said, bringing Blaine’s hand to his and kissing his fingers. “But you’re here now, and that’s what we have to focus on.”

“I know. You’re right.” Blaine smiled at Kurt and ran a finger down the top of his nose. Kurt squirmed in response. 

"You never did like your nose," Blaine said.

"Can't imagine why. Everyone wants a nose like Pinocchio."

Blaine shook his head. "You're beautiful. And at least you don't look like you've been in a bar brawl. I can't even blame it on Fight Club." Blaine touched his own slightly crooked nose. "Guess it goes with this." He ruefully pointed to the thin scar which ran in a jagged line over his left eyebrow.

"That scar is hardly noticeable, you know. Especially with how you've been wearing your hair." Kurt reached up to twirl one of the longer locks around his finger, and then drape it over Blaine’s eye. 

"Do you like the curls?"

Kurt grinned. "You know I do. They’re bordering on dramatic. Although it’s probably time for a trim."

"Honestly, I can't remember my hair ever being this long. Not since I started at Dalton, for sure.”

"And we're not going to change it very much. Just a tiny bit off the ends, to shape it."

"What, you're cutting it yourself?"

"Mm, maybe not. But I'll supervise."

"You just want to make sure I don't go back to that shaved head look I was rocking."

Kurt grew pensive, thinking of how Blaine looked when he first saw him in the park, like a shorn sheep. "You remember that?"

Blaine nodded. "It was seriously confusing. Someone showed me a mirror, and was asking me questions. I didn't remember what happened, or why I looked so strange. It didn't look like me at all." Blaine apparently saw something on Kurt's face he didn't like, and reached out to cup his chin. "Hey, none of that. I'm okay now."

Kurt smiled at Blaine's insistence on comforting him. "You're more than okay. You're my wonderful, beautiful husband."

Blaine scoffed, still mostly good natured but with a hint of bitterness. "You only think that because you knew me when."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Kurt. When you look at me, you see the guy you used to know, back before all this," Blaine said tightly, waiving a hand up and down his body. "Everyone else just sees a beat up guy who can't walk."

Kurt shuddered at the pain in Blaine's words. "Whoa, no way. That is completely untrue." He sat up and tugged on Blaine's hands, pulling him to a sitting position as well. "I knew you were feeling nervous about things, but I had no idea it was this bad. Where is this coming from?"

Blaine just shook his head, eyes cast down at their linked hands.

“You’re beautiful, Blaine, inside and out. And anyone who can’t see that is just blind.”

“Don’t feed me platitudes,” Blaine snapped, suddenly sitting up straighter and meeting Kurt’s eyes. “I wobble around like a drunken robot. And it’s not getting any better.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Kurt replied, desperately trying to keep his patience, but knowing he was failing. “Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help anything.”

“Are you serious? Did you just accuse me of feeling sorry for myself?” Blaine’s eyes were flashing, and he was beginning to tremble. “I can’t walk, Kurt!”

Kurt reached out and put a hand on Blaine’s thigh, but Blaine just flinched and turned away. “Hey, look at me,” he said, as softly as he could manage. “I love you. I’m on your side, always. But I truly think you are being too hard on yourself.”

Blaine pressed his lips together, and Kurt could tell he was trying not to cry. Blaine always cried when they fought, and Kurt knew he hated himself for it.

"Did Michael say something to you?” Kurt continued gently. “Because the last time he and I talked about this, he said you were still improving. Slowly but steadily. There's no reason to think you won't continue to get better."

"But how much better?" Blaine raised his eyes to Kurt's and they were wet with tears. "Will I be able to walk without lurching from handhold to handhold? That’s a long way from dancing. And even if I manage to shuffle along without a bookcase to hold on to, no one is going to pay to watch me."

Like a flash it dawned on Kurt, and he felt like an idiot for not realizing it earlier. "You're worried you won't be able to perform," Kurt said softly, taking Blaine’s hands in his. This time Blaine didn’t flinch, just held on tight.

"Well, yeah. Surely this has occurred to you. The thing I trained for, had just gotten my degree in, everything I always wanted to do - it's gone now, Kurt. It’s all gone." Blaine blinked, a tear escaping and running down his face. "What am I going to do?" he choked out.

Kurt took Blaine in his arms and held him tight. "Oh, sweetheart." He searched his mind frantically for the right thing to say, but drew a blank. "I love you, I love you so much. We'll figure it out." 

Blaine tucked himself more tightly against Kurt, and Kurt rubbed his hands along his back. Blaine wasn't really even crying, just heartbreakingly sad. Kurt wondered if maybe it wasn't as sudden as it seemed to him, if he hadn't been fully paying attention somehow despite thinking about Blaine and his needs seemingly twenty-four seven. Kurt was so focused on Blaine’s progress, he hadn’t given much thought to what he would do if it stopped. It probably didn’t help that despite having almost finished his first round of antibiotics, his balance didn’t seem much better (Kurt thought it was, but Blaine disagreed; he was due to talk to Dr. Kamali tomorrow). But Blaine had seemed so happy today… _it’s not going to be easy,_ he heard Michael say in his mind, and he pulled Blaine closer, pressing kisses into his hair. 

Blaine was beginning to relax, and Kurt shifted, noticing how stiffly Blaine still held his legs even though his breathing was calming down. He was reminded of a friend of Rachel's that had spent the better part of a week camped out on her couch, a leg propped on her coffee table... And then it hit him.

"Dance lessons," Kurt exclaimed, leaning back from Blaine and grabbing him by the shoulders. "That's what you need."

"Kurt, I've had years of dance lessons," Blaine mumbled, reluctant to leave the warmth of Kurt's embrace.

"No, dance therapy, dance rehab, I don't know what they call it. But it's what dancers do when they get hurt. Rachel's castmate did it when he broke his leg skiing. That's what you need!"

Blaine's eyes widened, and Kurt could see him struggling not to get too excited. "Is that a real thing? Do you think it would help?" Blaine swallowed hard. "Why hasn't Michael said anything?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know, Michael's great, but he doesn't know everything. But you're right - you've trained as a dancer for years, maybe that would work even better for you than regular person physical therapy. Maybe your body's just waiting for the music to get turned on."

Blaine stared at Kurt, and Kurt felt his heart beat faster at the intensity of his gaze. “Just waiting for the music to get turned on…” Blaine whispered. "That's how you helped me speak. Holy shit, Kurt, how do you always know what to do?"

Kurt blushed. "I don't. I mean, the fact that music makes you come alive isn't really news."

Blaine lay back down, pulling Kurt with him. "You're sure this is really a thing?"

"I don't know, sweetie. I don't want to get your hopes up for nothing. But I know Rachel's dancer friend did it." Kurt snuggled into Blaine, his head on Blaine's chest.

"Can we call him?"

Kurt laughed softly. "I don't even know his name. We can ask Rachel tomorrow. Michael, too." He raised his head up and gazed into his husband's warm eyes, so bright and full of hope. "But whatever they say, we're finding you a dance class. You can even come to yoga with me tomorrow if you want."

It was Blaine's turn to laugh. "Do they play music in your yoga class?" 

"Yeah, you know, relaxing music. So maybe that's not the same thing, but you should come anyway."

Blaine’s laugh subsided. "Or maybe we should find a class for people like me," he said hesitantly. "I can't just waltz into your yoga class as if I can do everything."

"I kind of think you could," Kurt said. "But why don't I talk to my instructor tomorrow and ask her? And we'll find out what your other options are, and then you can do as many of them as you want.”

"I could ask Rachel to talk to her friend, and find out what he did," Blaine said. "She keeps asking if there's anything she could do to help."

Kurt nodded. "Exactly. Let her work out some of that guilt productively."

"Kurt," Blaine chided, "you seriously think she owes us something for not being able to make us a baby?"

Kurt shrugged. “No, of course I don’t, not realistically. But you know Rachel. She’s been giving me guilty looks ever since she got pregnant. Until she decides she’s done something to right the situation, she’s not going to let it go.” 

“She can’t really fix the whole baby thing, though,” Blaine said, rubbing Kurt’s shoulder comfortingly. “It’s not her fault, and it’s not something that she has any control over.”

“No, that’s true. But your rehab? _You_ do have control over that, okay? So don’t give up yet.” Kurt shifted until he could catch Blaine’s gaze. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

*****  
As it turned out, Rachel was more than happy to be given a project, even an assignment as narrow as they had intended this one to be. But by the end of the week, it had, like so many things Rachel touched, expanded into a whole new dimension.

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” Kurt asked, as conversation lulled during dinner, Blaine sitting with his head propped on his hand and his eyes drifting closed.

“I am,” Blaine replied, barely opening his eyes. “We were out all day. First I went to physical therapy, and Michael had a bunch of information for us to look over about dance therapy, and he put music on during my session.”

“How’d that go?”

Blaine shrugged. “It made the time pass more quickly, but I don’t know if it helped much.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Then we had lunch at a place near Union Square that was way too claustrophobic.”

“So why didn’t you leave?” 

“We had already ordered by the time I realized how much it was bothering me.”

“And you didn’t want to get into it with Rachel.”

“Yeah.” Blaine frowned. “How I felt - it’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”

Kurt stood and cleared their plates, putting the dishes in the dishwasher while he thought about his answer. “No, you know I don’t.”

Blaine turned his wheelchair so that he could see Kurt. “Unusual, then. For me, not for you.”

Kurt looked at Blaine, not surprised to see his concerned expression. It had been a long time since they had talked about Kurt’s anxieties, but obviously Blaine hadn’t forgotten. “Well, next time we can both scurry home together.”

Blaine laughed, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t letting it go. “It’s just one more thing I’ve got to deal with now, I guess.”

Kurt pursed his lips, but couldn’t make himself say what he had been thinking about for a while now.

“Hey, what is it?” Blaine asked.

Kurt had hoped Blaine would raise this himself. He didn’t think it was really his place to do it, but since Blaine had come home, all his insecurities, old and new, had come barreling to the surface. And Blaine needed more help than Kurt could give.

He sat down and scooted his chair next to Blaine. “Have you thought about seeing a therapist? You know, a psychotherapist?”

Blaine huffed, and looked away. “Because I don’t have enough people telling me what to do right now,” he said bitterly.

“Blaine…”

“No, I know. I’m sorry. You’re right.” He paused. “Actually, I called Zachary already.”

“You did?” Zachary was the therapist Blaine had gone to back when they first got married, a continuation of the work Blaine had been doing with his therapist in Lima after their break-up.

“Yeah. Weeks ago.”

“Are you going to start seeing him again?”

Blaine shook his head. “He moved away, actually. But he recommended a few other people for me to meet with.” Blaine turned back to Kurt, his shoulders slumping. “I know I need to do it, I know. But I’m just so tired. Every single thing is hard. I almost stabbed myself in the eye with my toothbrush the other day when I lost my balance at the sink. At the restaurant with Rachel, people kept bumping into my wheelchair when they went by, and the waitress wouldn’t move us to a different table. By the time we were done eating, I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.”

“And then Rachel brought you back to her place to play with Maya.”

“Exactly.”

“And you were cheerful, and bright eyed, and sang songs to her all afternoon long,” Kurt guessed, knowing precisely how his husband behaved around the little girl. “Even though you were miserable.”

Blaine nodded. “Yeah.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Kurt stood up. “All right, we’re getting into bed.”

“Now?” 

Kurt understood Blaine’s surprise - it wasn’t even seven o’clock, and it was a Friday night. But that didn’t matter. “Yup. I’m going to make us hot chocolate, and we can watch a movie on Netflix. Better yet, we’ll find some silly reality tv show that will require as little brainpower as possible.”

Blaine readily acquiesced, and within half an hour they were cuddled together in bed, Blaine resting on Kurt’s chest, his head bobbing up and down when Kurt laughed. 

“This is nice,” Blaine said, raising himself up on an elbow to look at Kurt. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Kurt said. “It’s hardly a hardship to snuggle in bed with you.”

“Yeah, but it was just what I needed,” Blaine said sweetly.

“You always get more tired when you’re depressed,” Kurt said softly, immediately wishing he hadn’t let the words slip out. He didn’t want Blaine to take offense.

But Blaine didn’t argue with him. “It’s true.” Apparently it was obvious to Blaine, as well. Tomorrow Kurt would help him track down the therapists Zachary had suggested, and see if they could set up some introductory meetings. But for tonight, Kurt would hold Blaine close, and keep him safe, in the best way he knew how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more week until the next chapter is posted, and then I'll be back to posting twice a week when I return from my trip. Hope you enjoy this one!


	17. Chapter 17

Blaine felt a little raw over the next few days, as if actually saying the word depression had opened him up, exposed him to the air. But it felt good, too, not to be dodging it any more, wondering if Kurt had noticed and whether he would be mad at him for not doing something about it sooner.

That was the catch 22 of the disease, though – when you’re in it, sometimes it keeps you from realizing that anything is out of the ordinary. Blaine had been through this before, and while he wanted to chastise himself for not knowing better, for not seeing it coming, he tried to be content with remembering that it just wasn’t how it worked.

They looked into the people Zachary had recommended, and set up meetings with two of them. Kurt came along without Blaine even having to ask, and he knew it wasn’t just because it was easier when he had someone to push his wheelchair and hold doors open. Kurt’s care for him wasn’t as much of a surprise as it had been when he was younger, when the thought that someone could have a constant undercurrent of genuine concern for him had sometimes been difficult to trust. But Blaine was still so thankful for Kurt given his current level of neediness, which, at least physically speaking, was at a high even for him.

The first therapist they met with, Emily, was a soft-spoken Asian woman in her late thirties. She had a soothing manner and a kind smile, and the fluffiest, friendliest cat Blaine had ever met. The second one, Suzanne, was older, taller, and more matter of fact; she reminded Blaine of Dorothy from _The Golden Girls._ Both of them specialized in working with people who had experienced physical trauma. When Blaine asked each of them about their experience with the effect of trauma on relationships, both women gave a nearly identical answer: that was the heart of their practice. 

*****

Blaine had been home for almost two weeks when he realized it was happening almost every night. He thought about saying something to Kurt as they were getting ready for bed, but Kurt distracted him with kisses and then tucked him in close, his breath puffing soft and calm against Blaine’s head, and Blaine just couldn't bring himself to disturb him.

But that night when Kurt woke him again, nudging his shoulder deliberately, Blaine knew it was time. Instead of just mumbling and rolling over as on past nights, he forced himself to open his eyes and turn to look at Kurt.

"Hey," he said softly, blinking in the dim light at his husband. "I'm here, I'm good. Don't worry."

Kurt's sleepy eyes widened as he quickly tried to deflect. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Blaine reached out to push Kurt's bangs out of his eyes, letting his fingers brush through his hair. "It's okay, sweetie. I know you did."

"What?" Kurt's eyes narrowed, and for a moment Blaine feared that he would deny it.

"You've been checking on me. It's okay."

Kurt covered his face with a hand, and Blaine waited as he took a few deep breaths. When Kurt finally removed his hand and looked at him, Blaine could see the anxiety in his eyes.

"I really didn't mean to disturb your sleep. I just wanted to check to make sure you weren't..."

"I know." Blaine held out his hand and Kurt took it, squeezing it tightly.

"It was different when you were at the center. Medical professionals were responsible for you."

"Hopefully not actually watching me sleep, though. At least not lately."

Kurt pressed his lips together. "I know...”

"You didn’t worry when you saw me sleeping at the center, right? I must have conked out on you dozens of times while we were watching television. I don’t remember you waking me up then."

Kurt shook his head. "It's just that now, sometimes I wake up and see you lying here next to me, and you're so still. And especially if it's dark, and you're on your back," Kurt's voice broke, and Blaine could see tears forming in his eyes, "you look almost like you did when you were gone. And there's no one to check but me."

"Oh, sweetheart," Blaine breathed out, wrapping his arms around Kurt. "I'm so sorry."

But Kurt wasn't done. Apparently now that he had started, all his fears were pouring out. "And what if you didn't wake up? What would I do then? What if you needed me to do something but I was asleep, and I didn't know? Blaine..." 

Kurt was sobbing now, and Blaine held him as tightly as he could, rubbing his back and whispering to him. "Shh, shh, baby, it's okay. I'm all right. I'm not going anywhere."

As Kurt calmed, Blaine pulled back and wiped Kurt’s eyes with the edge of his t-shirt. 

"Stop it, Blaine," Kurt protested, but Blaine just smiled. 

"You'll just wipe your face on my shoulder, anyway. Might as well cut to the chase."

"We shouldn't have so much practice at this," Kurt muttered, reaching around to find a tissue.

"No, but I'd rather you cry on my shirt than not tell me. You get that, right?"

"I didn't think you needed to know," Kurt said sadly.

"That you're worried I'll go to sleep and not wake up? That's really something I don't need to know?"

Kurt just stared unhappily at Blaine, scrubbing at another tear that slid down his cheek.

"Can I tell you something?" Blaine asked quietly, looking down at his hand where it rested on Kurt's hip, and then forcing himself to look back into Kurt's eyes. "I worry about it sometimes, too." Sometimes when he closed his eyes, a tiny voice in his head said _hope it isn’t three years later when you wake up._ He knew it didn’t make any sense, and it didn’t keep him from sleeping – usually – but it was there.

Kurt's eyes flashed. "What? No, no way," he said adamantly. "Dr. Kamali said that's not a thing, that's not going to happen. You have no more chance of randomly dropping off into a coma than anyone else."

Blaine stroked his hand along Kurt's arm. "And yet I've thought about it. And it scares me. Just like it scares you. It's not rational for either of us. It doesn't mean it doesn't affect us."

"Fuck, this is a mess, isn't it," Kurt sighed, scooting closer until they were tangled together, Blaine's stubble scratching Kurt's cheek, arms and legs wrapped around each other. "Maybe we'll just have to stay like this all night. That way I'll know you're safe."

"All day would be okay, too," Blaine said softy, and from the way Kurt tightened his hold on him, he knew Kurt understood that he wasn't entirely joking. “You know,” Blaine whispered, “it’s okay if you wake me up at night. I don’t mind.”

Kurt scoffed. “It’s not okay. It’s ridiculous. And you need your sleep.”

“It’s not ridiculous. And I can always go back to sleep.” Blaine pressed kisses to the side of Kurt’s head and into his hair. “Anyway, you’re more important than sleep.”

Kurt let out a little cry and hugged him tighter. “I love you, you cheeseball.”

“I love you too.” Blaine rubbed Kurt’s back and breathed him in. Being awake in the middle of the night was actually fairly conducive to talking about difficult things, as they had discovered before. Blaine figured he might as well keep going. "I actually had this on my secret list of things to talk about when I found a therapist."

"Your secret list?"

"You know, the list in my head."

"You can't write it down?"

"Nah. This stuff's not that serious."

Kurt nodded in mock agreement. "Of course. You'd have to write it down if it was serious. But since it's just worrying about never waking up again every time you go to sleep, you don't need to."

"Exactly."

"You know what I'm thinking?"

"What?"

"That it's a good thing we met two therapists that seem vaguely experienced with this kind of thing."

Blaine laughed. He had been wondering if Kurt was going to start seeing a therapist again too, and apparently, he had his answer. "Yeah, but what if we both like the same one?"

"No chance. I know exactly which one you'll choose, and you know which one I'll choose. And they are not the same."

“So it’s okay with you if I call Suzanne tomorrow?” Blaine asked, joking. He felt more of a connection with Emily, and he was sure Kurt knew it.

“Ha ha.”

“In all seriousness, though, I’m glad you’re going to see someone now.” Blaine pushed up on an elbow, catching Kurt’s gaze. “This is hard for you, too.”

Kurt bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah. I’m actually sort of looking forward to it.”

“Did you see a therapist when I was…?” 

Kurt shook his head. “No. I know I should have, obviously. But it was weird how it happened. I mean, at first I was certain that you’d wake up, no matter what the doctors said. I figured it was just a matter of staying positive, and waiting it out. I didn’t let myself think that you wouldn’t. My dad woke up, and so would you. So it wasn’t as if I needed to talk to anyone, because nothing was wrong; everything was going to be okay.”

“But then it wasn’t,” Blaine said softly, finding Kurt’s hand and twining their fingers together.

“Then it wasn’t. So I went on tour, and tried not to think about it too much.”

“About me.”

“No – no. I thought about you all the time,” Kurt said emphatically. “I thought about you and me in high school, sitting in the choir room listening to Mr. Schue rattle on about his crazy idea for the week. About hanging out at your house, listening to music when we were supposed to be studying. I thought about the night after you proposed, when we walked down to the lake and that band was playing, and you twirled me around on the grass. Moving to New York the second time, living in this apartment together, watching you sing while you made me pancakes for breakfast…” Kurt traced patterns on Blaine’s chest as he spoke, and when he raised his eyes to Blaine’s, they were wet with tears. “I just tried not to think about how none of that would ever happen again.”

“Ah,” Blaine said, pulling Kurt closer, “the head in the sand approach. I approve.”

“You’ve always been my mental health role model,” Kurt mumbled, digging his face into Blaine’s neck.

Blaine huffed out a laugh. “Please don’t even joke about that. I’m the worst.”

“You’re not,” Kurt protested, lifting his head to look at Blaine. “Seriously. You’ve gotten into bad spots, and you’ve gotten yourself back out of them. And you’ll do it again. I know you will.” 

“You have a lot of faith in me,” Blaine said, suddenly overwhelmed.

“I do. And I haven’t been wrong yet.” Kurt shifted, pulling Blaine’s head to his chest. “Now let’s both go to sleep, okay? We’ve both got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“Why do I think you’re not talking about Vogue,” Blaine mumbled, closing his eyes and snuggling against Kurt’s chest. Kurt hummed his agreement, and Blaine let himself doze off, safe in his husband’s arms. They might have a lot of work left to do, but as long as they could do it together, Blaine knew nothing could stop them.


	18. Chapter 18

Kurt trudged up the stairs of their building, eager to get home and see Blaine. He had spent the day trying to mediate a spat between two people on his team, neither of whom saw the value in compromise, and who each failed to understand that Isabelle was not, in fact, going to be impressed by their refusal to cooperate. There was a time and a place for principled objection, and whether their office’s upcoming outing included a chilled zucchini soup or gazpacho shooters was definitely not it.

Kurt unlocked the door and was greeted by the sight of Blaine in shorts and a tank top, on his hands and knees on a yoga mat. A slim blond man with broad shoulders kneeled next to him with his hand on the small of Blaine’s back. The coffee table had been pushed out of the way to make space on the floor, and the sound of soft music drifted through the room.

Unfortunately Kurt couldn’t enjoy the music, his head filled with the sight of another man touching Blaine.

“Kurt, hi,” Blaine said, turning over to sit on the mat, the blond man’s hand carefully – and totally unnecessarily – guiding him. “This is Billy.”

“Hi, Kurt,” the man said, standing up and extending his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Kurt stepped forward and shook Billy’s hand quickly, then stepped back. “Are you one of Rachel’s friends?”

Billy looked confused, and Blaine responded. “No, actually your yoga instructor put me in touch with Billy.”

“I do a lot of work with people who have been injured or who have physical limitations,” Billy explained. “Adaptive yoga can help with so many things – balance, strength, flexibility, stress reduction,” Billy counted them off on his fingers.

“I’m familiar with yoga,” Kurt muttered.

“Why don’t you join us?” Billy suggested, ignoring Kurt’s tone. “Most of the poses we’re doing are common ones. I’m just modifying them so Blaine can do them.”

“It feels really good, Kurt,” Blaine added. “Come down here with me.”

“No, I’ve had a long day.” Kurt couldn’t help but see the flash of hurt in Blaine’s eyes as he turned and walked away. He knew he was being irrational, but he just hadn’t expected this right now. All afternoon he had been looking forward to some quiet time with Blaine, not watching him get a private lesson from a male model. For fuck’s sake, the guy was even better looking than Sam.

Kurt went into the bedroom and closed the door, then curled up on the bed, ignoring the fact that he was probably wrinkling his shirt. He tried to sleep, hoping that would put him into a better mood, but he couldn’t help listening to the muted conversation in the next room. Every so often he’d hear Blaine laugh, and he wanted to kick himself for begrudging Blaine this. What kind of person was he, anyway?

Eventually he heard Billy leave. He hoped that maybe Blaine would come in and snuggle up to him in bed, kiss him and pet him and let him know everything was all right, but that’s not how it worked. Kurt had behaved badly, and the only way to fix it was to own up to it.

Kurt got out of bed, took off his vest, and untucked his button-down. Out in the living room, Blaine was sitting on the floor, rolling up his yoga mat, leaning up against the couch with his legs sticking out in front of him. Kurt sat down next to him, feeling the warmth radiating off his sweaty skin.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said softly, taking the yoga mat out of Blaine’s hands and rolling it between his own. “I was in a bad mood, and I didn’t realize you’d have company.”

Kurt heard Blaine suck in a breath. Okay, maybe that wasn’t his best apology.

“Not that you can’t have company,” he backtracked. “Of course you can, anytime, it’s just that when I saw him-”

“Could you really think, even for a minute, that I’d be screwing around with a yoga teacher? With anyone?” Blaine said flatly. He wasn’t angry; he was just hurt.

“No.” Kurt turned, meeting Blaine’s gaze. “No, absolutely not. And you know that, and I know that. I was just momentarily jealous of a cute guy touching you, and I was too grumpy to censor myself. I’m sorry.”

Blaine nodded, looking down at his lap. “He’s married, by the way.”

“Yeah?”

“And straight.”

Kurt blew out his breath. “I’m a total idiot, and that doesn’t even matter.”

“It’s okay.”

Kurt looked over at Blaine, admiring the lovely shape of his shoulders in his black tank top, and how his little green shorts barely covered his ass. “I know this probably isn’t the right moment, but you look amazing right now.”

Blaine laughed, turning to Kurt. “I’m a sweaty mess, and I’m wearing my high school workout clothes.”

“I’m aware,” Kurt replied, smiling. “Honestly, you’re gorgeous.”

Something flickered over Blaine’s face, and then he moved to straddle Kurt’s legs. “Still tired?”

“Uh-uh,” Kurt replied, and leaned up to kiss Blaine, who responded firmly, pushing Kurt’s shoulders back against the sofa and taking control of the kiss. Kurt felt Blaine’s hands roaming over his chest and he couldn’t help but squirm underneath him.

“Holy crap,” Kurt breathed out when Blaine pulled away, sitting back to look at Kurt, “where did that come from?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine replied, smirking. “I guess yoga is good for me.”

“Mmm,” Kurt agreed, pulling Blaine back down against him and kissing him some more. But he could tell Blaine was actually tired himself, and after a few more minutes of entirely delicious making out, Blaine shifted to lay his head on Kurt’s shoulder.

“Can I take you out tonight?” Kurt asked, lazily playing with a strap of Blaine’s damp tank top.

“What?”

“I want to take you out. There’s a really nice new French place near where I catch the subway in the morning. I’ve been watching them get set up, and they opened last week.”

“We could get take-out.” 

Blaine was still self-conscious in public. Kurt knew it, but he hated that Blaine avoided doing things that made him happy because of it. “Come on, the place looks beautiful, and the weather’s perfect – not nearly as hot as it’s been. Let me take you out and show you off.”

For once Blaine didn’t immediately scoff at the thought that he was worthy of admiration. Maybe some progress was being made. “I’ll have to shower first.”

“Well, yeah.” Kurt stood and held out his hand to Blaine, who let himself be tugged up, balancing himself with a hand on the couch. Kurt pressed a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips, holding him firmly around the waist. 

“Join me?” Blaine asked, as they made their way down the hallway.

“My pleasure.” And indeed, it was.

****  
The restaurant turned out to be as attractive inside as it was outside, with small tables covered in snowy white cloths, and tiny bouquets of wildflowers giving the room a less formal but still festive air. Blaine was looking absolutely edible himself in a royal blue button down and crisp gray slacks, a silver and blue bowtie of Kurt’s own design finishing the look. And Blaine had complimented his own outfit – Kurt was wearing an emerald and silver vest he had made himself, over a black shirt and skinny jeans. He thought they made a rather striking couple, in fact, and insisted on letting the waitress snap a few pictures of them before they sat down.

After their appetizers came and they had tasted everything, Blaine looked up at Kurt and smiled. “Well done. This place is great. You can’t even tell they just opened.”

“Except for the free champagne,” Kurt said, indicating the two tall glasses the hostess had brought over.

“There is that.”

“And it’s close to home, too, right?”

Blaine looked at him quizzically. “Yes, that’s convenient.”

Kurt bit his lip, and went for it. “I was thinking you could probably walk here, with just your cane, and me. Next time.”

Blaine looked at him suspiciously. “What are you talking about, Kurt?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that you need practice, but you don’t like walking where people can see you.”

Blaine huffed. “Maybe I need an invisibility cloak.”

“Believe me, if I had one, I’d give it to you. But since I don’t…”

“You thought you might find me an incentive.”

Kurt nodded. “Something worth walking to.” He smirked. “And once you make it this far, there’s a bakery with fantastic cronuts on the next block.”

Blaine just stared at Kurt, and then burst out laughing. “Kurt, you know I’d crawl if I had to for cronuts.”

“Crawling on city streets is hard on your clothes. I think that’s a bad idea.”

“Fine. I’ll try walking.” Blaine sighed, and he looked at Kurt ruefully. “But not quite yet, okay?”

“Okay.” Kurt held out his hand palm up on the table, and Blaine took it. “Is it all right if I ask you about it again sometime?”

Blaine nodded. “Definitely.”

The waitress brought their entrees – a salad with scallops for Blaine, and duck breast with butternut squash for Kurt, and they both paused to sample their selections. Kurt was just reaching across to taste Blaine’s dish when his phone pinged with a text.

He checked it quickly, and typed back a quick reply to Isabelle, then noticed an unread text from Blaine from earlier in the day. 

“Hey, I must have missed your text this morning. What’s your news?”

Blaine’s face lit up. “Oh my god, with all the yoga drama, I completely forgot.” He leaned forward, preparing to tell his story. “Well, you know how Rachel and I were checking in with some of the music staff at NYU and NYADA, to see if they had anyone that needed piano lessons?”

“Yes.” Kurt had thought this was particularly brave of Blaine, and Rachel had volunteered immediately to go along – it gave her a chance to brag about her current project to a wider audience.

“I ran into Professor Lee at Tisch this morning. She’s starting up a new production in a few weeks, and needs a music director.” Blaine beamed. “Guess who she asked to do it?”

Kurt jumped out of his seat and grabbed Blaine into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s amazing!”

Blaine squeezed him back and pressed a kiss to his cheek before Kurt sat back down. “I know. I’m really excited. Apparently the person she had planned on using just got a grant to write their own show, and dropped out unexpectedly just as this semester was starting. It’s only part-time and it doesn’t pay very well, but I got a job!”

“It’s an awesome job,” Kurt gushed. “It’s perfect for you. Professor Lee is the one you worked with before, right?”

Blaine nodded. “Yup. I music directed the freshman play, as part of my senior project, and she was my advisor. She was great to work with, too. She’s actually one of those rare teachers that means it when they say they want you to ask questions.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you were just one of those rare students that actually asked intelligent questions.”

Blaine blushed. “Flatterer.”

“I’m just so proud of you, Blaine. Really.” Kurt knew he was smiling that goofy smile that made him look like a twelve year old, but he didn’t care.

“Well, now that I’ll be getting out of the house on a regular basis, maybe you can start auditioning again,” Blaine said hesitantly. “If you want to, of course.”

“I don’t want to audition,” Kurt replied quickly.

“Are you sure?”

Kurt bit back his “of course” and made himself pause for a moment. It had been a long time since he had even thought about it, and he wasn’t all that surprised to realize that he still wasn’t as enthralled by the idea of being on stage as he once was. “Honestly, I think I’m good for now. I really like what I do at Vogue. But I could put a little more time into my design work.”

“Your designs are amazing,” Blaine said, reaching out to run a finger along the neck of Kurt’s vest. “The world can definitely use more Kurt Anderson-Hummel originals.”

Kurt smiled, never tiring of Blaine’s sincere praise. But something about what Blaine had said was bothering him. He played back the conversation in his head until he found it.

“You didn’t think I was passing up auditions because of you, did you?”

Blaine shrugged. “I have been rather time-consuming.”

Kurt glared at Blaine until he broke. 

“What? I am.”

“You, my friend, are not getting any more back rubs until you stop talking about me spending time with you like it’s a chore, instead of the very best possible thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Kurt…” Blaine was momentarily speechless, and Kurt took advantage of it to stretch over the table and press a kiss to his lips.

“Don’t ever think that you’re a burden to me. Having you back is a miracle, and I’m never going to forget it.”

“Even though I hog the blankets and climb all over you while you’re sleeping?” 

Kurt’s eyes filled with tears, remembering all the nights that he had slept by himself, heartbroken and alone in the bed he used to share with Blaine.

“Especially because you do.”


	19. Chapter 19

When Kurt got home the next afternoon, Blaine was curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him and one leg stuck out on the coffee table, the cuff of his yoga pants pushed up and a bag of ice balanced on his shin. Kurt’s heart clenched in his chest.

“Honey, you okay?”

Blaine sat up, giving Kurt a wan smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Long story.” He nodded at his phone. “Let me just say goodbye to Sam, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Kurt toed off his shoes and hung his blazer by the door, then went into the kitchen and got them each a glass of apple juice, while Blaine spoke quietly into his phone. Kurt waited until he was done to hand him the glass. Blaine’s hand shook almost enough to spill the juice as he drank it down, and Kurt bit his lip. Blaine might be okay, but he didn’t really seem fine. 

Kurt joined Blaine on the couch, careful not to jostle him, and after Blaine nodded his assent, pulled his legs on to his lap. Blaine shifted to lean against the arm of the couch, and stretched out a hand to lay it on Kurt’s arm. Kurt carefully picked up the bag of ice, examined the bump on Blaine’s shin, and winced. “You got yourself good, huh?” he asked calmly, wrapping his fingers soothingly around Blaine’s ankle.

“It’s not that bad. I slipped in the bathroom, fell on the lip of the shower.” Blaine let out a long sigh. “And that’s not even the interesting part of my day.”

There was a tension in Blaine’s expression that made Kurt nervous. “Tell me about it?” 

Blaine nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to. It’s just hard to know where to start.” He bit his lip. “All right, so this morning I was bored, and I went looking for this sweater.” He pulled at the sleeve of the light blue cashmere crew neck he was wearing. It had originally been Kurt’s, but Blaine had appropriated it ages ago. “It had that little hole in the seam by the neck, remember?”

Kurt nodded. There was no sign of the hole any more. Blaine was very precise when it came to tailoring.

“I wanted to sew it up, and fix the hem on those new red jeans you got me. I was rummaging around in the back of the closet, looking for the sweater, when I found this.”

Blaine shifted and pulled a legal size envelope out from under the pile of papers on the coffee table. Kurt sucked in a quick breath, his heart speeding up. It was the package of divorce paperwork Pam’s lawyer had sent him, after he came back from his tour.

“Blaine, I never asked for that. Your mom just sent them – I never signed them. You know that, right?”

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hand and squeezed it. “I know, honey. We talked about this, I’m not upset with you.” He let go of Kurt’s hand and pulled the cover letter out of the envelope. “But I had wondered why my mom thought you would agree to a divorce. I know my mom can be--” he stumbled a bit on his words, “ _could be,_ kind of impulsive, but she wasn’t irrational. So I looked through the papers, and the language in the letter from her lawyer kept drawing my attention. It focuses so much on my medical condition, and it seems so, well, final.”

“That’s what we thought,” Kurt said, barely able to raise his voice above a whisper. 

“I know you told me,” Blaine said, “I know you did, but somehow this just felt different to me, maybe it was seeing the words in writing, so black and white. I wanted to know more. So I called Dr. Kamali, and she had her office email me my medical file.” 

“That couldn’t have been a fun read,” Kurt said, trying to keep his voice steady, and failing.

Blaine pulled his legs off Kurt’s lap and scooted close to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “I know it’s hard for you to talk about when I was unconscious.”

“God, it really is…” Kurt sucked in a deep breath and focused on the feeling of Blaine’s hands on his body, the fact that Blaine was alive, not in a coma, but right here with him. “I’m sorry, I’m not freaking out, I promise.” 

“Don’t apologize, I know this upsets you,” Blaine said softly. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, that’s not the right answer.” Kurt raised his eyes to Blaine’s, the concern there obvious. “I’m okay. I’ve clearly got to talk to my therapist about how this subject triggers me, but don’t stop talking to me because of it. This is important. It’s your life we’re talking about. You have to be able to talk about this with me.” Kurt huffed out a laugh. “The fact that you don’t know what happened really isn’t your fault.” 

Blaine smiled sadly. “I know.”

Kurt sat up and took Blaine’s hands in his. “What you said – about it seeming so final – you’re right. The way they talked about your medical condition, the doctors didn’t leave any room for you to wake up. As far as they were concerned, you were just gone.”

“I get that now. I looked at my file – skimmed most of it – but I saw the medical reports on my prognosis. The ones from the first few weeks, and the months after that. The second opinion from the doctor from Johns Hopkins, and the third opinion from that doctor you convinced to fly in from Minnesota. They all agreed that I wasn’t going to wake up.”

Kurt nodded, focusing on Blaine’s open, sparkling eyes, defying every medical opinion he had received. “They did.”

Blaine sighed. “I wish I could ask my mom why she did what she did, moving me and everything. I mean, she always had my best interests at heart, my whole life. I can’t imagine she would do something that she thought would hurt me.”

“I agree. She was just trying to take care of you.”

“You think so?” Blaine looked hopefully up at Kurt from under his lashes.

“I do,” Kurt said. “I know what she did doesn’t make a lot of sense from this side of things, but I think she was just doing what she thought was best for you. Although it was hard to believe it at the time.”

“Did she tell you why she did it?”

Kurt shook his head. “When I came back home after the tour was over, she wouldn’t return my calls. She had removed you from the care center uptown where you had been before I left, and since I had transferred guardianship to her so she could look after you while I was away, I had no way to track you. I knew she had moved you, and I figured she brought you back to Ohio, but I couldn’t confirm it. Then I got the package with the divorce papers from her lawyer, so I finally had contact information – but the lawyer wouldn’t tell me where you were, either, just that there had been no change in your condition.”

“I just can’t believe she wouldn’t let you see me.” Blaine said, starting to tear up. “She knew how much we loved each other, Kurt. Why would she do that?”

Kurt shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe she was already getting sick, and wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe she was scared. The best I could figure out, from what her lawyer said, was that she was afraid that I’d resume guardianship and move you away from her, back here to New York. But he didn’t even come out and say it, I was just guessing.”

“If she was sick already, maybe she couldn’t come to New York with me,” Blaine suggested. “Maybe she needed to stay in Ohio.”

They were both silent for a few moments. Kurt kept running over the memory of how he felt when he realized Blaine wasn’t nearby anymore. It was like worrying a sore tooth, but ever so much worse.

When Blaine spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “Why didn’t you try to get me moved back home?”

Kurt had been dreading this question ever since the conversation started. He knew he had given Blaine only the barest of explanations about his care up to this point, but there wasn’t much more he could say. At least nothing that wasn’t going to hurt.

“It’s hard to explain, but…” Kurt was playing with Blaine’s fingers, and forced himself to still his hands and look him in the eyes. “Remember after Finn died, how Carole was? So broken?”

Blaine nodded. “Yes.” His expression immediately reflected how horrible that situation had been.

“There was one afternoon, when we were trying to pack up Finn’s things from his room, a few weeks after he passed. Carole said she didn’t know how to be a mother without a son.” Kurt felt the tears well up in his eyes, but he kept going. “It was one of the most awful moments of my life, Blaine, seeing her like that. Imagining what she was feeling.” Now Blaine’s face was scrunched in pain. “After your accident, your mom was feeling the same way. I sat with her for endless amounts of time, hours upon hours in your room, while you just lay there. For weeks, then months. She was wrecked. And then I got out. I took a job that allowed me to become someone else, to lose myself in a character. I escaped the awful pain of losing you, at least for eight hours a day. But she didn’t have that option.”

Blaine looked like he was going to be sick, and Kurt wrapped his arms around him and held him tight.

“So you let her have me,” Blaine finally said, his voice thick with tears.

“I did. I let her have you. I didn’t want to fight with her. It just seemed too cruel.” 

Blaine nodded against his shoulder, but Kurt knew they weren’t done yet. “Blaine?”

He looked up, his eyes red and puffy. “Yeah?”

“If I had thought for a minute that she wasn’t taking good care of you, I never would have left you with her.” Kurt tried to pour every ounce of determination he had into his words. “You have to believe that I didn’t let you go because I didn’t love you. I never stopped loving you, not for a minute.”

Blaine gazed at him, open and earnest. “I know. I really do.”

They sat there wrapped around each other, Kurt hoping wildly that this conversation would ease them both, let them think back on what had happened with less pain, not more. His throat was aching, and finally he pushed back, gently helping Blaine sit up as he blinked and tried to clear his head.

“Hey,” Kurt said softly. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Blaine cleared his throat. “Well, that was miserable,” he said, but when he raised his eyes to Kurt’s there was a flicker of light in them that hadn’t been there before. “Leave it to me to show you a good time, huh?”

Kurt slid off the couch and stood, stretching to release his sore muscles, and then held out a hand for Blaine. “Shall we relocate to the kitchen? I think I’ve had about enough of this couch for a little while.”

Kurt helped Blaine stand up and walk the few steps to their little table, then poured them each a glass of water. He found some blueberries in the refrigerator, and set them out along with several boxes of cereal and a container of milk. Blaine got bowls out of the cabinet, found some clean spoons in the dishwasher, and they sat down to eat.

Neither of them spoke again until Kurt poured his second bowl of frosted mini-wheats. “Reminds me of finals week,” Blaine said, smiling shyly at Kurt. “Remember how much you teased me about having cereal for dinner, until that time you had three finals in a row and couldn’t bring yourself to prepare anything else?”

“Rice Krispies never tasted so good,” Kurt agreed. “Although Cheerios remains a classic.”

“I still think Frosted Flakes is the best. Especially with strawberries. Or nectarines.”

“Except for that winter when you would only eat raisin bran.”

Blaine smiled, and proceeded to pour himself a second bowl of cereal as well, but then he set his spoon down and took a deep breath.

“I know this would be a lot easier if my mom were still around,” Blaine said, as if his comment naturally followed from a discussion of breakfast cereals. “But thank you for trying to put a positive spin on what happened. She may have thought she was acting in my best interest, but that never would have included putting you in so much pain. So much _more_ pain.”

Kurt nodded, focusing on pouring some more blueberries into his bowl without spilling them all over the table. “We were both so overwhelmed at that point. I’m sure neither of us was at our best.”

“It really was a miracle that I woke up at all, wasn’t it?” Blaine asked, toying with his spoon.

“It really was.”

“Maybe that’s why it took so long.”

Kurt tilted his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Blaine smirked, and spoke with what was apparently supposed to be a Brooklyn accent. “You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.”

When Kurt still looked blank, Blaine grinned with mock disbelief. “Miracle Max? Princess Bride?”

“You spent too much time talking to Sam today,” Kurt grumbled. “Did you talk to him about, you know, what you found out today?”

“Not really. He had texted me earlier that he wanted to talk. I figured it was as good a way as any to distract myself until you came home.”

“That, and needlework,” Kurt said, nodding towards the red jeans folded carefully on the side table.

“Well, of course. That was where this whole thing started.”

“Did Sam have any interesting news?”

Blaine shook his head. “Not really. He apologized again for not being able to come visit yet. They’ve resurrected the football team at McKinley and of course, he’s helping out.”

Kurt stood up, putting the milk away and then taking the bowls over to the sink. He nearly dropped them when he heard Blaine’s next words.

“I would have understood if you had signed the papers, you know.”

“What?”

“The divorce papers. I would have understood if you signed them.”

“I didn’t, Blaine,” he began, but Blaine interrupted him.

“I know, sweetheart. I know you didn’t. I’m just saying, I would have understood if you did. I don’t know what you thought about when you got that package, what went through your head. But with what the doctors were saying, it would have made perfect sense to end the marriage. It wouldn’t have meant you didn’t love me.”

Blaine was looking at him so sincerely, but Kurt couldn’t say anything in response. 

“Honestly, Kurt, what would you have done if I was still in a coma in five years? Ten?” Blaine asked softly. “I hope you wouldn’t have stayed married to me forever, if there was no change for so long. I wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone for the rest of your life, married to just a memory.”

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s arm and tugged at him until he sat down in the chair next to him. He held his hand, rubbing his thumb over his wrist as he waited quietly for Kurt to respond.

Kurt made himself think about Blaine’s words. Blaine deserved the truth, at least as much as he was able to express it. Because if divorce was such a clear cut evil, so inherently unthinkable, then Pam was a monster for suggesting it. And he knew that wasn’t fair. “I didn’t want to think about it,” Kurt said finally. “Some people said I should move on, but I couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. Maybe, if more years had gone by…” It was the first time he had let himself admit that there was even a possibility that he might have ended his marriage with Blaine. 

Blaine looped his arms around Kurt’s neck, and rested his head on his shoulder. “I’m really glad that time never came,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to Kurt’s cheek.

“Me too, baby,” Kurt said, leaning into his touch. “Me too.”


	20. Chapter 20

Kurt had been in meetings all morning, trying valiantly to balance giving his new intern a chance to share her ideas with keeping things moving along at a moderately efficient pace. He was afraid he was failing – but the proud look on the intern’s face as they left the conference room and she headed off to research the history of high heels made him think he wasn’t doing too badly after all.

Back at his desk, he looked at his phone to find a string of texts from Blaine. Kurt frowned. Blaine was supposed to have a doctor’s appointment this morning, and then physical therapy, before heading over to NYU for a rehearsal for the fall play. Hopefully nothing was wrong.

**From Blaine:**   
**I got a letter from my dad.**

**From Blaine:**   
**A long letter. With a check (surprised? No).**

**From Blaine:**   
**He wants us to come visit him in Arizona over Columbus Day. He even enclosed a voucher for airfare.**

**From Blaine:**   
**I don’t know if I want to go.**

**From Blaine:**   
**But you’d come with me, right?**

**From Blaine:**   
**Gotta go, Michael’s giving me dirty looks.**

The last message was over an hour ago. Kurt drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Graham Anderson was not his favorite person, to be sure, but it was nice that he had finally contacted Blaine. While Blaine’s relationship with Cooper had improved a bit over the past months – Cooper was actually calling Blaine almost regularly, and returning emails and texts – his father hadn’t seemed very interested in doing much more than he had done before Blaine’s accident, which pretty much amounted to sending cards and checks on birthdays and holidays. 

Apparently he was trying to up his game now. As far as Kurt knew, Graham had never actually extended them an invitation to visit him before, and he certainly hadn’t been so serious about it as to discuss flights. Plus, it seemed like he had written Blaine an actual letter, which might even include more words than “happy birthday.” Kurt had to admit he was curious.

**From Kurt:**   
**Wow, interesting development. You don’t have to go, you know. But I’m definitely coming with you if you do. Call me if you want to talk before I get home. Love you.**

*****  
Kurt was running a little late at the end of the day, so after a quick text exchange with Blaine, he stopped to get Thai food on his way home. He even got the beef satays with peanut sauce he knew Blaine loved, figuring Blaine might need a bit of comfort food to get through the conversation about his dad.

But when he got back to the apartment, he found Blaine at the kitchen table, staring intently at his laptop, pages from the script of his show spread out around him. Blaine looked up at him, bleary eyed, as he entered.

“Kurt, hi,” he said, blinking as he tried to focus on something besides the computer screen.

“Tell me you haven’t been sitting there all afternoon,” Kurt said, giving Blaine a quick peck on the cheek before setting the bag of take-out on the counter.

Blaine held up his hand, fingers crossed. “I haven’t been sitting here all afternoon,” he said with a smile.

“Come on, stand up and stretch and then kiss me properly,” Kurt said, taking Blaine’s arm and pulling until he was standing against him. Blaine’s arms immediately wrapped around Kurt’s neck, and Kurt spanned his narrow waist with his hands, pressing in for a lingering kiss. 

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Blaine said as they parted. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I’m glad I’m home, too,” Kurt said softly, keeping one hand on Blaine’s waist as he pushed a curl off his forehead with the other. “Did you get a lot of work done?” 

Blaine nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I reworked some of the solos in the eleven o’clock number, and sent notes to everyone involved so they can go over the changes before our next rehearsal. I also talked to the instrumentalists, or at least three of the four of them, and set up some times to start going over the final draft of the score. But the flute player hasn’t returned my emails. I think I need to talk to Professor Lee about finding someone else. All in all, though, I got quite a lot done.”

Blaine sat down and closed his laptop, then paused and grimaced as he shook out his hand.

“A little too much typing today?” Kurt asked, sitting down next to him and taking his forearm in his hands.

“Guess so,” Blaine said, leaning back and closing his eyes as Kurt started massaging his wrist and fingers. “Wow, that feels good.”

Kurt kept going for a few minutes, then set Blaine’s arm down on the table and picked up his other hand, proceeding to give it the same treatment. “You know-”

“No, don’t say it-”

“Your hands haven’t been shaking at all lately,” Kurt finished his sentence.

“You said it,” Blaine moaned. “What if you jinx it?”

Kurt laughed gently, picking up each of Blaine’s hands and kissing them. “I don’t think that’s how it works.” He smiled at Blaine when Blaine opened his eyes. “I’m right, right? No problems lately?”

Blaine nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, you’re right. The last time I wrote anything about it in my physical therapy journal was probably two or three weeks ago. I actually talked to Dr. Kamali about it this morning. She says it might not be gone for good, but…”

“But this is awesome news,” Kurt said, smiling broadly. “Maybe we should get Thai food to celebrate,” he said, deliberately not looking at the bag of food on the counter.

“Very funny.”

*****

Once they had both dug into their pad thai, massaman curry and beef satays, Kurt thought it was probably safe to raise the topic of Blaine’s father.

“So, I’ve always wanted to see a cactus. I hear the botantical gardens in Phoenix are spectacular.”

Blaine looked at Kurt, a sparkle in his eyes. “There are neat Frank Lloyd Wright buildings, there, too.”

“And it’s not that far from the Grand Canyon.” Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket. “About a three and a half hour drive,” he said, showing Blaine a map he had found earlier. “We could take a day trip on a bus, or rent a car.”

“Too bad flights are so expensive,” Blaine said, starting to grin.

“Yeah. If only we knew someone out there, who might want us to come visit and spring for the trip.” 

Blaine sighed. “Is it weird that I feel like I’m giving in, if I go see him? I mean all this time he hardly talks to me, and now he wants me to drop everything and hop on a plane? Why doesn’t he come here?”

“Do you want him to come here?”

Blaine shrugged. “Not particularly, it’s just… I don’t know.”

“No, I get it.” Kurt stood and held his hand out to Blaine, then led him over to the couch. He turned to face him, sitting cross-legged. Blaine tried to do the same, then grimaced and flopped sideways against Kurt. “Sore?” Kurt asked, putting his arm around Blaine’s shoulders.

“Yeah, a bit. I might have been a little overeager at physical therapy this morning. I was kind of worked up, thinking about my dad’s letter.”

“You’re angry at him.”

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you be?”

Kurt huffed. “Not only would I be, I am. But he’s still your dad. And I’m guessing you’d actually really like to see him.”

“Yeah, I would. But what if I get there, and it doesn’t go well? I haven’t had more than a fifteen minute conversation with him since high school graduation.”

“Maybe this is the chance to fix that.”

Blaine just shook his head.

“We don’t have to stay at his house,” Kurt suggested. “We can fly in, rent a car, and use that nice check he sent you to pay for a hotel. Have ourselves a well-deserved little vacation, and maybe see him for dinner a few times.”

Blaine smiled wryly, then grabbed an envelope off the coffee table and handed it to Kurt. “You may have the makings of a good plan there.”

Kurt pulled out the letter and the check fluttered down on his lap – his eyes flew open when he saw the amount.

“Damn, we can stay in a really nice hotel – one of those spa resort places,” Kurt said, looking at the check in awe. “Get massages, mani/pedis, everything on the menu!”

Blaine squealed. “That is an awesome idea.”

“He does know you’re not starving, right?” Between the money Kurt had earned (and hardly spent) over the past few years and what he was earning now, along with the small but steady amount Blaine was getting from his job at NYU, and the proceeds from Blaine’s mother’s estate, they really had nothing to worry about financially. But maybe Graham didn’t know that?

“He said that now that he isn’t sending a check to a care facility each month, he’ll just send it to us.”

Kurt shook his head. “Well, worse things could happen, right?”

Blaine stared at him, mouth open, and then burst out laughing. “I suppose they could.” He snuggled closer to Kurt, eyes fixed on his lap. “So you don’t think it’s wrong to take his money?”

Kurt scoffed. “Wrong? Why would it be wrong? You’re his kid, you’d get his money eventually anyway. Although I guess you’ll probably be sharing with Cooper.” 

“Maybe if he keeps sending us checks like this, we could put it away… save it for something?”

Kurt’s heart flipped in his chest, and he turned to look Blaine in the eye. “What did you have in mind? Maybe a piano that stays tuned for more than a month? Or a trip to Italy? I know you’ve always wanted to go there.”

Blaine squirmed, and Kurt felt a little bad for teasing him, as he responded seriously. “No, I was thinking about something a little more significant.”

“I can think of a few pretty significant things that might call for some savings.” Kurt studied Blaine’s eyes, hoping he wasn’t heading down the wrong path. “Surrogacy, for example. Or adoption.”

Blaine’s eyes lit up. “Would you want to? Not right away, but when we’re ready?”

“Blaine, there is nothing I would like more than having a baby with you.” Kurt pressed a sweet kiss to Blaine’s lips, then continued dotting his face with kisses as he went on. “Or two. Or three.”

“Mmm,” Blaine sighed, leaning back against the arm of the couch and pulling Kurt on top of him. “You know we can’t make them this way, though, right?”

Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine’s hair and smiled broadly. “So are you saying you want me to stop?”

“No, no, nope. Please continue,” Blaine said, running his hands down Kurt’s back. But they were both clearly still as excited about the thought of starting a family as they were about making out, and after a few minutes, Kurt shifted to lie next to Blaine, taking hold of his hand and winding their fingers together.

“Do you have a preference for surrogacy or adoption?” he asked. 

“I don’t really know enough about either to decide, I think.”

“You don’t care if the child is biologically related to one of us?”

“I’m not sure. Do you?” Blaine turned, catching Kurt’s gaze.

“I think I’d really like a little kid with your curls,” Kurt said, twirling a lock of Blaine’s hair around his finger.

“There’s really no way we could guarantee that,” Blaine said, smiling. “I’d kind of like a baby with your eyes.” 

“So maybe we should look into surrogacy first?”

Blaine nodded. “We can just get some information, start learning about it.” He tucked himself in against Kurt. “There is something else we could do with the money, too.”

“Oh?”

“A bigger apartment. Maybe three bedrooms? If you wouldn’t mind leaving this place.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand. “I’ll go anywhere, as long as you’re with me.” 

Blaine laughed softly, rocking against Kurt’s chest. “I take it that includes Phoenix?”

“Absolutely. There’s no way you’re going to a spa without me. _Couples_ massage, Blaine.”


	21. Chapter 21

Kurt paced around their small apartment, bored and annoyed. Tina had showed up this morning out of the blue (how dare you turn up out of the blue uninvited, Kurt had murmured to himself all day to the tune of the Adele song) and whisked Blaine off for what she claimed would be a reinvigoration of their epic friendship. In doing so, she had completely ruined the Saturday Kurt had been looking forward to all week, including brunch at a new restaurant Isabelle had gotten them reservations at, and a visit to the fall farmer’s market to pick up some pumpkins and other seasonal treats – both he and Blaine loved carving pumpkins, even though Blaine tended towards the traditional, while Kurt preferred to shake it up a little. 

But now that wasn’t going to happen. Kurt had even offered to take Tina along to brunch with them, but apparently her plans didn’t include Kurt, and Kurt wasn’t unselfish enough to let Tina take Blaine to this new hipster mecca without him.

Tina had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to have Blaine home by six. Kurt invited Rachel to come to dinner too, and had expected her to show up early as usual with Jesse and baby in tow, but she texted a little while ago with the news that Maya had an ear infection so they were bowing out. So now Kurt had made too much food, including mock chicken tenders for Maya (they were raising her vegan so far, anyway), and was going to have to deal with Tina all night without Rachel there to provide a buffer. He thought about calling Santana and Brittany, or maybe even Wes, but before he could make any further plans, his phone rang. It was Blaine.

Kurt reined in his annoyance and tried to keep his voice light. “Hey there. Where are you guys?”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice sounding strange. “We’re at the hospital. Mount Sinai, the one on Tenth Avenue.”

Kurt felt his stomach drop and he sat down hard in a kitchen chair, nearly knocking it back against the stove. “Blaine? Are you okay? What happened?” His ears were ringing.

“I’m fine, just… shaken up.”

“Are you hurt? Is it your head? Were you in an accident?” Kurt made himself stand up and put his shoes on, grabbing for his wallet at the same time. 

“No, it wasn’t me at all. We were at the Museum of Modern Art, getting a snack at the café, when Tina had some kind of allergic reaction. She passed out. It was awful, Kurt.” 

Kurt froze, his hand on the doorknob, and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. “Is she okay?”

“She is now. They want to keep her for observation overnight, though.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay?” Kurt asked again, still trying to control his shaking voice.

“Yeah.”

But Blaine didn’t sound okay. “Listen, honey, I’m going to get there as soon as I can. I’m leaving right now. Will you be all right until I get there?”

Kurt could hear the sob in Blaine’s voice as he answered. “Please come soon, Kurt. I don’t feel good.”

Kurt practically flew out of the apartment at that, bounding down the stairs and frantically hailing a cab, telling Blaine to hang on. When he was finally on his way uptown, he wracked his mind for what to do. Blaine wasn’t saying much, but he could hear his shaking breath even through the phone.

“Where are you right now, honey?” Kurt asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“In the waiting room.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Yeah, I’m in my chair.”

All right, at least he couldn’t fall down. “Is anyone there with you?”

“Not really. There’s a nurse at the desk. Some other people are waiting, too.”

“Tell me exactly what’s wrong.”

Kurt could hear Blaine practically whimpering, and he knew he was trying not to cry. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel good. My hands are tingling, my chest feels funny, my head feels weird…”

“Do you think it’s a panic attack?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said, hardly audible. 

Kurt almost hoped so, because otherwise he was having a heart attack, and that definitely wasn’t a good option. “Blaine, sweetheart, you have to talk to the nurse.”

“No…”

“You have to, baby. I’m going to be there as soon as I can, but not for ten minutes or so. If something’s really wrong, you can’t wait that long.”

Silence.

“Blaine? Can you go over to the nurse?” Nothing, then a murmur of voices.

Kurt was beginning to think he was going to have a panic attack himself, and leaned forward to see if the cab driver couldn’t find a faster way uptown, when someone spoke into the phone.

“Hello? Is someone on the line?”

“Is Blaine all right? He was having symptoms of either a panic attack or maybe a heart attack-” Kurt could hear his voice rising. 

“Sir, your friend is going to be okay. This is Adina, I’m a nurse here, and I’m helping him calm down.”

“He’s my husband. Please, take care of him. He had a head injury that put him into a coma, he just came out of it a few months ago.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got him.”

“I’m on my way – I’ll be there soon. Please, can I talk to him?” Kurt asked.

“Just for a second, then why don’t you focus on getting here safely, all right?”

Kurt heard labored breathing, and then Blaine’s voice. “Kurt. Are you almost here?”

“Just a few minutes, sweetheart. Just a few minutes more, okay?”

Kurt thought he was about to lose it by the time the cab arrived at the hospital, and he finally made his way to the right room. He saw Blaine immediately, hunched over in a chair, a nurse sitting next to him, rubbing his back. His coat and scarf were draped over the chair next to him, his bowtie undone and the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.

“Blaine!” Kurt dashed over to him and wrapped his arms around him as best he could, squeezing him tight before easing up and looking at him. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine’s hair, and finally Blaine looked up at him, eyes wide and frightened.

“I don’t know what’s going on.”

Of course he does, Kurt said to himself. He’s just freaking out a little, he’s fine. “Tina had an allergic reaction, and you got her to the hospital, remember?”

Blaine nodded, looking lost. “Why do I feel like this?”

“You’re just stressed out and scared, dear,” the nurse said. She looked at Kurt. “I’ve been talking to him for the past few minutes, but he’s still a bit disoriented. I’m sure it will get better now that you’re here.” She stood up and let Kurt take her chair. “I’ll be right over at the desk.” She nodded to where a group of people were waiting for her attention. “Call me if you need anything.”

Kurt wanted to grab the nurse’s arm and keep her there, because he wasn’t sure at all what to do. Blaine was pale and sweaty, and his eyes kept darting around the room, then back to his lap. 

“Blaine, honey, come here,” Kurt said, helping him out of the wheelchair and on to the seat next to him. Now he could reach him properly. Kurt pulled Blaine tight against his chest, letting him curl up against him and press his face against his shirt. Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine’s hair and held him close with his other hand. “You’re okay, honey, everything’s going to be okay. Try to breathe, all right? Breathe with me?” Kurt tried taking some slow breaths in and out, and realized he was a little too wound up for that to work very well. “Guess I’m kind of scared, too,” he said softly, and Blaine squeezed him tighter.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Blaine murmured, still pressed against Kurt. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. I think it’s a panic attack.” Kurt bent his head and curled tightly around Blaine. “I’ve got you now. We’re together. It’s okay.”

It seemed like forever, but finally Kurt could feel Blaine relaxing, and he was able to breathe more easily as well. They parted slowly, Kurt keeping his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, but letting him sit up and stretch a little bit. 

“Fuck, that wasn’t any fun,” Blaine said dejectedly. 

Kurt just squeezed his shoulders. “Should we check on Tina?”

Blaine drew in a deep breath and let it out shakily, then did it again, with more success. “She’s probably still sleeping, but maybe you can ask the nurse. We don’t have to stay - Rachel’s going to come by later.”

It occurred to Kurt that he really didn’t have the whole story yet. “How long have you guys been here?”

“It happened during lunch. So, I don’t know, three or four hours?”

“Blaine, it’s almost seven. You’ve been here a lot longer than that.”

He shook his head. “No wonder I’m hungry.”

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh, even as Blaine turned a disapproving face to him. “What exactly have you been doing all this time?”

Blaine shrugged. “Just waiting with Tina, mostly. After they made sure she wasn’t about to drop dead, she had to wait to be seen by someone, and they just had us in the hallway for a while, in the emergency area. Then she was admitted, and we waited for a room. It took forever. When she finally got into a room they gave her some more meds, and she fell asleep.” Blaine tilted his head back and ran his hand through his hair, clearly exhausted.

“You’ve been taking care of her all day,” Kurt said softly.

“Until I freaked out.” He sighed. “I’m a mess.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said sternly, putting a finger to Blaine’s chin until he turned to look at him. “You apparently held it together enough to help Tina for what, five or six hours, in an incredibly stressful situation, and then, when she finally fell asleep, you let yourself feel how scared you were. You’re not a mess, you’re a hero.”

Blaine kept his eyes down.

“What do you say we continue this conversation at home?” Kurt asked, and then whispered in Blaine’s ear for only him to hear. “I think Nightbird needs a back rub.”

*****  
Kurt confirmed that Tina was still fast asleep, and after leaving a little note for her and calling Rachel to confirm that she was in fact going to stop by for a visit later despite Maya’s ear infection, they caught a cab back home. By the time Kurt wheeled Blaine into the apartment, any remaining adrenaline in his system had worn off completely, and Kurt was feeling as wiped out as Blaine looked.

Blaine had disappeared into the bathroom as soon as they got back, and by the time he emerged, freshly showered and wearing his old Dalton t-shirt and comfy pajama pants, their dinner had arrived.

Blaine came into the kitchen, using just his cane and seeming remarkably steady given the events of the day. When he saw the table, a smile stretched over his face. “Pizza and beer?” he said, amazed. Blaine grabbed Kurt and planted a big, messy kiss on his lips. “You are awesome.”

“Only the best for my superhero,” Kurt said, a hand on Blaine’s waist to steady him as he sat down. “So, I didn’t realize Tina had any food allergies. Any idea what happened?”

Blaine shook his head, folding a slice of the greasy pizza. “Nope. She’s going to have to have some tests done to see what’s going on. Apparently she was allergic to peanuts when she was little, but it wore off when she got older.” He took a big bite, and sighed. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

“Maybe her allergies came back? Does that happen?”

Blaine shrugged. “No idea.” He smiled at Kurt. “This is the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks. Thank you.”

Kurt opened two bottles of beer and poured them into glasses, handing one to Blaine. “I’m going to ignore what that says about my cooking for now, given that you’re in a vulnerable state.”

Blaine coughed, nearly sputtering beer all over the table, and Kurt patted him gently on the back. “That’s not what I meant, you jerk.”

“I know.” Kurt took a slice for himself, selecting a piece with as much tomato sauce as possible. He had gotten mushrooms and extra cheese for Blaine, but he personally preferred a more balanced sauce to cheese ratio. “So, did you and Tina at least have a good time before all the drama started?”

Blaine finished chewing and wiped his fingers carefully on a napkin. “Not really, actually.”

Kurt put down his glass and gazed at Blaine. “Oh?”

“Yeah. It was kind of weird. We just don’t have a lot in common anymore.”

“But you guys used to be so close.” Kurt would never forget the whole vapo rape fiasco, and Blaine’s stalwart defense of his friend’s questionable actions.

“That was a long time ago,” Blaine reminded him. “I really didn’t see her much after I started at NYU. She was so involved with everything at Brown, and then she moved out to L.A…”

“Started dating that agent, and got all distant for a while,” Kurt filled in, remembering. “What’s she doing now?”

“Working for an ad agency in L.A. Apparently she’s also been seeing Artie off and on. They’ve done a few film projects together, but they haven’t gotten serious.”

“Hmm.” Kurt finished off his beer, and contemplated opening another one. “I haven’t been very good at keeping in touch with people.”

“Except for Rachel and Jesse, and Santana and Brittany, and Wes,” Blaine said, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Yeah, except for them,” Kurt agreed. “Guess I haven’t done that badly.”

“I talked to Jonathan on Facebook the other day,” Blaine said, after a pause to pull another piece of pizza from the pie. Jonathan had been Blaine’s closest friend at NYU; they had been in an a capella group together, the Skyliners.

“What’s he up to?” Kurt felt a pang of guilt – should he have been tracking down Blaine’s college friends, too?

“He’s in Germany. He’s a banker.”

“Huh. Sounds awful.”

Blaine laughed. “Just because you don’t like math, doesn’t mean other people can’t find it interesting. Apparently he loves his job, and is engaged to an Austrian woman he met at work.”

“So he’s not moving back to the U.S. anytime soon.”

“Nope. But he filled me in on all the Skyliners gossip. Morgan is in Chicago, slaving away as a litigator at a law firm, and Julie and Maggie are in San Francisco, working at a women’s health collaborative. Ben’s at medical school at Johns Hopkins.”

“So none of your a capella buds are around.”

Blaine shook his head. “Not a one. They all went off to get advanced degrees, and pursue their dreams, while I was doing nothing.” He frowned.

Kurt poured another beer into Blaine’s glass, and held it out to him. “They are all clearly better people than you, and more deserving of love and happiness,” he said, keeping a straight face. “More beer?”

Blaine grinned. “Kurt Anderson-Hummel, are you trying to distract me from feeling sorry for myself by getting me drunk?”

“Since when have you gotten drunk on two or three beers?” Kurt replied, and grinned as they both burst out into laughter, both knowing full well what a lightweight Blaine was.

Blaine took a few sips of the beer, then set it down and turned to Kurt, his face open and earnest. “You know what else really bummed me out about today?”

“No, what?”

“I had been so looking forward to spending the day with you. You’ve been so busy at work, and I’ve had all those evening rehearsals…” His face grew soft, and he raised a hand to caress Kurt’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve missed you too,” Kurt breathed out, barely finishing his words before he was kissing Blaine, hard and hot and serious. Needless to say, neither of them cared that the remaining pizza was still sitting on the kitchen table when they stumbled out of bed the next morning.


	22. Chapter 22

“Thanks for walking me up, Britt,” Blaine said as he unlocked the door to the apartment. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” He was getting good at using just his cane to get around, at least for relatively short distances. It had been days since he had fallen – and the last time was really the fault of the cute beagle puppy Blaine had leaned down to pet, who got overexcited and ran in circles around his feet, tangling them in his leash. Blaine was unwilling to count this fall against him – anyone would have had trouble staying upright when faced with the power of that puppy.

But Brittany just smiled her hundred-watt smile at him and brushed aside his protest. “Three-legged unicorns shouldn’t go anywhere unescorted,” Brittany replied, keeping her arm firmly wrapped around Blaine’s. 

“I’m getting better at this,” Blaine said, waving his cane at Brittany.

“I know,” she said matter of factly. “But I like helping you.” Brittany placed a sweet kiss on his cheek and headed back to the elevator. “Say hi to Kurt for me, and text me if you’re going to yoga tomorrow.” Brittany had been after him to try her favorite yoga class, and while Blaine wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to do it justice, he thought he might be ready to give it a try. At least he’d have a friend there.

Blaine knew people often thought Brittany was a little too odd, but he found her comforting. She had a way of seeing into people that cut through all the fuss, and she never failed to cheer Blaine up. Ever since their senior year at McKinley, when Brittany had seen how he was struggling and let him know she was there for him, Blaine had realized the value of her friendship. While it was true that sometimes her brain veered off on an unusual path that her friends couldn’t follow, Blaine didn’t find that an obstacle to their friendship. Just the opposite – her uniqueness made Blaine treasure her all the more.

Blaine unlocked the front door and came into the apartment, maneuvering carefully into the open space. He was tired from his physical therapy session, and from the walk back, and he didn’t want to break his record by falling on his ass two feet away from the couch.

He looked around, surprised not to see Kurt in the kitchen or in the living room. He was usually home from work by now, and Kurt knew Blaine didn’t have a late rehearsal tonight. They had texted earlier about dinner plans, although in the end they had decided to wing it after they both got home; Blaine was secretly hoping for Thai, or maybe Greek take-out, but would be fine with defrosting some frozen chicken and doing a quick stir-fry, too. Anything that would give him a chance to sit down across the kitchen table from Kurt and decompress would be fine with him.

“Kurt?” Blaine walked the few steps down their narrow hallway to the bedroom and looked in. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off, but there was a tell-tale Kurt-shaped lump under the blankets.

“Honey? You okay?” Blaine asked, lowering his voice.

Blaine toed off his shoes, set his jacket on the chair, and climbed on to the bed. Kurt was curled up on his side, facing away from him, and he didn’t want to startle him. He slid close and eased an arm over his husband. “Hey there. Are you feeling all right? Did something happen?”

Kurt didn’t respond, but he turned over and buried his face in Blaine’s chest. Blaine wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Kurt mumbled into Blaine’s sweater.

“Do you want me to get you some aspirin, or water, or anything?”

Kurt shook his head against Blaine’s chest, and pressed closer. “Stay here.”

Blaine frowned, rocking Kurt against him and placing a kiss into his flattened down hair. This wasn’t Kurt’s usual way of dealing with situations that bothered him – he was more likely to want space and time to himself to think things through. Not that Blaine minded Kurt being clingy – he would cuddle Kurt all day and all night if it helped, it wasn’t a problem in the least. But it just wasn’t in character for Kurt, and it worried him.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, Blaine pressed a soft kiss to Kurt’s forehead, trying to judge whether he was sick. But he didn’t seem hot. Oddly, Kurt didn’t even protest.

Blaine searched his mind for what to do, but couldn’t come up with anything in particular. He settled himself more comfortably against Kurt, stroking circles on his back, and he felt a little of the tension go out of Kurt’s body. “Maybe we should just nap for a little while?”

He could feel Kurt nod against his chest, and so he kept on stroking him, feeling his warmth through what Blaine realized was his old Dalton t-shirt – the one with the ratty collar, not one of the new imposters. Kurt almost never actually wore this shirt; he must be feeling really awful.

Unfortunately Blaine could tell that Kurt was too upset to actually fall asleep, and too restless to really relax. After enough time had passed that he didn’t feel like he was pushing, he tried again. “Everything okay with your dad and Carole?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said softly. He rolled off Blaine enough to look at him, his eyes red and puffy. “It’s nothing life threatening. I’m just being a baby.”

“I highly doubt that,” Blaine said, running a finger along Kurt’s cheek. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Kurt sat up, crossing his legs and moving away from Blaine’s touch. He gathered the blanket around himself, and looked past Blaine, out the window of their bedroom. “Am I what you expected?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The Kurt you found when you woke up, compared to the Kurt you knew before. Is this what you expected when you married me?” Kurt’s voice was bitter.

“Kurt, I don’t understand.” He didn’t, and Kurt’s tone was making him nervous.

“When you left – not on purpose, I know you didn’t do it on purpose – but when you last saw me, I was a working actor. About to be a Broadway star, if things went my way. I could quiet a room with the power of my voice. I wasn’t afraid to step out on to a stage; I knew I could have the audience in the palm of my hand. And now… I’m nothing.”

Blaine still didn’t understand, and his heart was aching for Kurt. Something had clearly happened to upset him, but there was more than that going on, as well.

“Kurt, you are not nothing.” Blaine held out his hand, and thankfully Kurt took it, but he still sat stiff and shaking, clearly not sure if he wanted Blaine to come nearer.

“I am.”

“You are not,” Blaine said, gently but firmly. “You are the most wonderful person I know. You are kind, and considerate, and loving. You’re ridiculously talented. You’ve got an agile and creative mind, and you put it to work every day, writing and designing. Not to mention your skill as an actor and a musician, which I am certain hasn’t just up and disappeared since you were picked for a national tour.”

Kurt shook his head, and when he spoke, his voice was full of tears. “But I failed, Blaine. I failed.”

Blaine couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward and took Kurt in his arms, holding him tight until he relaxed enough to accept the gesture. “You have definitely not failed, not in any way. You’ve been so strong through all of this, and you’re still the most interesting guy I’ve ever met. I’m so proud to be your husband.”

“I’m proud to be your husband, too,” Kurt said, his voice tight. “Always.” He sniffled and pressed his face against Blaine’s neck.

“Sweetheart, please, tell me what happened,” Blaine encouraged him. Kurt didn’t say anything. “Come on, you can do it. A very smart guy once told me that he couldn’t stop me from failing, but he could make it safe for me if I did. Let me help you.”

Kurt sucked in a few deep breaths and then pulled back, looking at Blaine wryly through his tears. “Why do you think I’m here, dripping snot all over your favorite sweater, and not aggressively power shopping to drown my sorrows?”

Blaine smiled softly and wiped a tear off Kurt’s cheek with his finger. “All right, so tell me already.”

Kurt sighed, and flopped down on his back. “I got fired.”

“What? That’s impossible.” There was no way Isabelle would fire Kurt – she adored him. 

“Not really fired,” Kurt admitted dejectedly. “I guess the right term is ‘laid off.’ The whole department’s being shut down.” Kurt accepted the tissue Blaine handed him and wiped his face. “Online operations are going to be run out of Tennessee or South Carolina or something, if they even decide to keep it going.” 

“I don’t believe it. How can Vogue not be in New York?”

“I know!” Kurt said. “What are they thinking, right? Anyway, they told everyone today. No notice, but we get two weeks’ pay and a very sincere form letter letting us know how to apply for unemployment.”

“What did Isabelle say?”

“She’s furious, of course. She got axed too, but she’s got a spot at Marie Claire. She said she might be able to take me with her, but she won’t know for a few weeks, maybe longer.”

“Oh, Kurt, I’m so sorry.” Blaine took Kurt’s hand and squeezed it. “I know how much you liked that job, especially working with Isabelle.”

Kurt shrugged. “When she asked me to come into her office today, I actually thought I was going to be promoted. I’ve been working towards it all summer, and now… there was no point to any of it.”

Blaine settled down against Kurt, his head on his shoulder. “That seems a little glass half empty, don’t you think? All the cool projects you’ve been working on are just more material for your portfolio. They’ll look great when you look for another job.” Blaine paused, an idea that had occurred to him before striking him now as particularly timely. “That is, if you look for another job.”

Kurt scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Blaine sat up a little, catching Kurt’s eyes. “You don’t need to look for another nine to five job.” He paused, trying to gauge whether Kurt would be receptive to him bringing this up again. “I know you said you didn’t want to do it when I asked last time, but honestly, I wasn’t convinced.”

“Didn’t want to what?”

“Start auditioning again.”

Kurt looked like he was about to snap at Blaine, but then he sucked in a long breath and let it out. “I’ve let it go, Blaine. Besides, we have to eat.”

“I think I’m a little offended at that,” Blaine said, keeping his voice light. “There’s no rule that you have to support me.”

“That’s not what I…” Kurt began, and then stopped. “I guess it was what I meant. But it’s not your fault or anything, you’ve just kind of been out of the job market for a while.”

“And not exactly capable of jumping right back into my chosen career?” Blaine said, giving Kurt a sharp look. Kurt’s perspective definitely stung, but this wasn’t the time for an argument. He gathered his thoughts, and spoke more gently, taking Kurt’s hand and holding it in both of his. “Let me remind you that I have a very reasonably paid part-time job, which is about fifty-percent likely to turn into a full time job next semester. And even if it doesn’t, Kurt, we’re fine financially. Between the money from my mom, the checks from my dad-“

“We were going to save those,” Kurt interrupted him.

“Yeah, but I bet we wouldn’t even have to use them. We’re doing fine. And your happiness is _important,_ Kurt. Much more important than a bigger apartment.” 

“I’m not unhappy, don’t you get that?” Kurt was practically whining. “I like working for Vogue.” He banged his forehead against Blaine’s collarbone. “ _Liked._ ”

Blaine sighed, rubbing the back of Kurt’s head. “I know you like it. But you liked performing, too. I’m just saying it’s an option now.”

“You do wish I was still an actor,” Kurt said glumly.

“Kurt, don’t be silly. I don’t care whether you’re an actor or not. We’ve got Rachel and Jesse to get us backstage at all the shows, anyway.”

Kurt had to laugh at this, and Blaine went on. “I don’t care if you’re an actor or a baker or a candlestick maker, although I admit that your current side occupation of fine bowtie designer does have its perks for me personally. But what you do isn’t who you are. Who you are is the love of my life, and that’s never going to change.”

Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt’s lips, tasting the salt from a stray tear. “All I’m saying is that if you want to go back to performing, or just think about it, I’ll support you. The choice is entirely yours.”

Kurt sighed. “I’m out of practice.”

Blaine couldn’t help the little grin that started to spread over his face. Kurt had pretty much just admitted he was thinking about giving it another try. “You could get a vocal coach. I was thinking of trying to get back into shape, too, just to sing again. Maybe we could do it together.”

“You were?” Kurt sat up, the blanket pooling around his hips. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know, it didn’t come up. But Professor Lee heard me singing with the cast the other day and said she had someone in mind I might like to work with. I thought I’d meet them, at least, see how it felt.”

“Blaine, that’s wonderful! You should totally do it.” Kurt grabbed him into a hug. “You are meant to be on the stage, you know,” he whispered in his ear.

“So are you, Kurt,” Blaine said, pulling back to look at Kurt sternly. “Why is this a great idea for me, but not for you? You could take some lessons, audition when you feel ready, and in the meantime, work on your designs. Hell, you could even open a boutique.” He took Kurt’s hand again. “You are so talented, Kurt, the world’s your oyster.”

Kurt blushed. “That saying never made any sense to me. And I don’t even like oysters.”

Blaine laughed. “It’s from Shakespeare, actually. And it means the opportunities are there for you to take. You’ve just got to reach out and take them.”


	23. Chapter 23

It was a rare evening out for Blaine without Kurt. Kurt was having dinner with Isabelle and a few people from Marie Claire to see what kind of role they might have for him at the magazine, although Blaine had a feeling that Kurt would decide not to take the job, even if it was offered to him. But the meeting was well-timed, as Blaine had been wanting to talk to Santana alone.

“So, Sleeping Beauty, how’s it going?” Santana said, breezing into the bar twenty minutes late. 

Santana’s new nickname for him seemed to have stuck, and frankly Blaine wasn’t objecting. It was a lot better than most of the things she had called him in the past. 

“I’m good, Santana, how are you?” he responded politely as she slid into the seat across from him. He had picked a booth in the back of the cheerful bar, wanting to have a little privacy. He and Kurt had been in here a few times for a late dinner of burgers or fish and chips. If the place was trying a little too hard to be an English pub, that was okay, as long as they kept stocking the sweet cider they both liked. 

Santana was unapologetic about her tardy arrival. “I’ll be better once you spill what’s on your mind.”

Blaine was a little miffed. “Do I need to have a reason to get together with you?”

“No, obviously not, but it’s clear that you have one. You’ve got ‘hope she says it’s okay’ written all over your face.” She studied him for a minute. “Or maybe it’s ‘hope she can convince Kurt to let me have a threesome.’ It’s hard to tell.” 

Blaine chuckled. “You’re right, there is something I want to talk to you about. But can we at least order first?”

After they placed their orders, Santana flipping her hair at the petite waitress with tattoos of a thorny rose climbing up her arm, Santana sat back against the end of the booth and propped her feet up on the seat. Blaine hoped the points of her stiletto heels wouldn’t pierce the vinyl.

“How’s the walking coming along?” Santana asked.

Blaine let his breath out slowly, reminding himself of the value of Santana’s straightforwardness. He really did appreciate it most of the time, even if it occasionally made him wince.

“Much better, thanks. Slow improvement, but steady.”

“Like a turtle,” she said, accepting her Bloody Mary from the waitress. “I’ll have to think about that.”

“Please, no turtle nicknames,” Blaine pleaded.

She looked up at him, mock surprise on her face. “Nicknames? What are you talking about? I don’t use nicknames.” She tilted her head, her expression softening. “And I wouldn’t make fun of you, not for that.”

Blaine pondered this for a minute, taking a sip of his bubbly cider, the apple flavor perfect for fall. Santana had never had a problem making fun of anyone’s attributes in the past, no matter how inappropriate. He shuddered, remembering the names she had called Artie. But that had been a long time ago. “You grew up a bit while I was sleeping, didn’t you?” Blaine observed. 

Santana shrugged. “Maybe I did. Maybe I had a chance to think about what’s important. What I’m grateful for.” She sat up straighter, placing her hands flat on the table. “Okay, enough gushy stuff. Why are we here?”

Blaine took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I know you and Britt really want to have some big joint wedding anniversary party with us this year.”

“We do. Britt does. And it’s almost November, so we should get started.” Santana shot him a disapproving look. “You know how I feel about giving Britt what she wants.”

Blaine wavered for a moment, wondering if he should have had this conversation with Brittany first. But he was pretty sure his plan would work, once Santana heard him out, and so he forged ahead.

“That’s not what I want.”

Santana sighed. “When are you going to get it into your head that you don’t look like some kind of shriveled freak? You’re the same bizarrely charming, oddly handsome prepster you always have been, regardless of how you spent the past three years.”

Blaine was a little stunned, but decided to let the ‘shriveled freak’ comment go for now. “Um, this isn’t about me being self-conscious, although thanks for the compliment, I suppose.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Santana twirled a fork around her fingers, making Blaine wish he was sitting a little further away. “I know your dad is sending you bags of cash, so that can’t be it.”

“Santana, how do you know so much about my life?” Blaine said, exasperated. “Anyway, money isn’t the issue either. Just listen for a second, okay?”

Santana harrumphed, and picked up her drink. “Fine.”

“Kurt has been working so hard to take care of me ever since I woke up. Practically every minute that he wasn’t at work, he was with me. And before that… he was doing the best he could, but he was sad, and grieving. From what I can tell, it was a really awful time for him.”

“Yeah, it was,” Santana said solemnly.

“He’s been through so much, Santana. I was oblivious, but Kurt had to suffer through it, all by himself.”

“And? What does that have to do with the party?”

“I want to have a party, but I want it to be a surprise for Kurt. I’ll tell him that after everything that’s gone on, I want our anniversary to be just the two of us. Which, by the way, is completely true.” It really was, Blaine thought. If his plan worked out, a private anniversary celebration with Kurt would be the icing on the cake.

Santana nodded, acknowledging his point.

“Then I’ll still put on a party, hopefully with your help, and Brittany’s. We’ll make it a little sooner, and much less formal. It can be a party for all of us, but not an anniversary party. A chance to get everyone together and celebrate, you know, being alive.”

Santana sat back and frowned at him. “So you want me and Britt to help, but you don’t want it to be an anniversary party?”

Blaine bit his lip. He knew Santana wouldn’t love the idea, given Brittany’s fixation on their anniversary. “Yeah.”

Santana sighed and rolled her eyes. “You guys do deserve a party.”

Blaine smiled. “We all do.”

“And you’re okay with it, as long as Kurt doesn’t know about it, so he won’t drive himself crazy planning it.” Santana mulled this over. 

“Exactly. I want to do something nice for him.”

“Can I tell Britt that we’ll celebrate our anniversaries together next year?”

Blaine laughed. “Sure. Frankly, if you want to have a dinner with just the four of us this year – maybe the week after our anniversary, sometime before Thanksgiving – I’d really like that.”

“And we’ll tell Kurt that’s instead of the big party,” Santana said, nodding. “You really think everyone we invite can keep it a secret?”

This was the tricky part. “I don’t know. I hope so. I figure I’ll contact people by phone instead of email, so there’s less chance of someone replying to us both and giving it away.”

Their food arrived, and they busied themselves eating for a few minutes, Santana almost immediately deciding that Blaine’s fries were tastier than her salad and proceeding to eat as many as she wanted. After they had made a dent in the food, Santana sat back, getting Blaine’s attention.

“You know Kurt doesn't really care about a party, right?" Santana asked, pulling the celery stalk out of her empty drink and pointing it at Blaine. "He just wants you."

Blaine frowned. "Yeah, but he'll like the party, won't he?"

"Sure, because you threw it for him. Just don't forget about what's most important." She gave him a pointed look.

Blaine tilted his head at Santana, not sure what she was getting at. He and Kurt were doing fine, weren't they? "Do you have some reason to think things aren't going well between us?"

"You tell me. And in case you need a hint, take this."

Santana pulled a plastic drugstore bag out of her leather tote and handed it to Blaine. Inside were several different kinds of lube. Blaine felt the heat rise in his face. "What, no condoms?" he joked, trying to make light of it.

"You guys haven't used condoms in ages," Santana scoffed. "What, you think I don't know? Or is it that you don't remember?" Santana put her hands to her cheeks in mock horror. "Oh my god, that's why you haven't done it - you don't remember how!"

"Santana, of course I remember how," Blaine said, trying not to get angry. It wasn't as if Santana was trying to be cruel - it was just classic Santana snark, which happened to be hitting rather close to home.

"But you admit there's something off in lovey-dovey land. Don’t try to deny it. My spidey-sense is never wrong about these things."

Blaine sighed. He couldn't talk to Wes about this – Wes didn’t particularly like to talk about sex. And since Santana already seemed to know every detail of his life... "I really want things to get back to normal. And we've done... lots of things, very good things, very good sexy things. But then we get to a certain point, and we're about to do… more… and I get, I don't know, thrown off by how things are different now."

"How are they different? You seem fine." Blaine knew that Santana was being deliberately obtuse, to draw him out, and he realized he didn't even mind.

"Some of it is just me. My balance is still off, my leg muscles don't always work right, I get tired too fast. But that's not all of it. Kurt's different, too."

"How?" Santana asked, an uncharacteristically gentle tone in her voice.

"I think he's scared."

****

After his conversation with Santana, which ended, not surprisingly, with Santana telling him to get his head out of his ass and talk to Kurt about their sexytimes stalemate, Blaine resolved to do just that. But like so many things, it was easier said than done. He just couldn’t think of an appropriate segue. How did you go from “what do you want for dinner?” to “are you afraid to fuck me?”

One night as they were getting ready for bed, Blaine pulled the bag of lube Santana gave him out of his night table drawer and held it out to Kurt. "Look what Santana gave me," he said, sitting down on the bed.

Kurt frowned and sat down next to Blaine. "Should I get dressed for this?"

Blaine huffed out a laugh. They were both in their briefs, Blaine having interrupted them as they were changing their clothes. "No, actually, I think she'd say you are dressed perfectly for the occasion." 

Kurt peeked inside the bag and put it down with a sigh. "How can she possibly know?"

Blaine shook his head. "How did she know our measurements for our wedding tuxes? Our ring sizes? The exact designer suit you had been dreaming about? Santana just _knows_ things."

"I don't believe in her Mexican third eye," Kurt said. Then he slapped himself in the face with a groan. "Ugh, crap. I know how she knows."

Blaine looked at him quizzically. 

"Remember when she and Britt were over for dinner the other night, when you made that awesome Moroccan dish with the chicken and almonds?” Blaine nodded. “And Santana disappeared for a few minutes, and then came out of our bedroom with one of your hoodies on, saying she was cold?"

"She was wearing the tiniest little top, Kurt, and our air conditioning was turned all the way up. I didn't mind her wearing it."

Kurt made a face at him. "Not the point. When she came back to the table, she kept giving me these odd looks, and I wondered what was up. I had left my journal out on the nightstand. Obviously, she read it."

"You think she read the journal you keep for therapy?" Just the thought of Santana reading what Blaine jotted down between sessions made his stomach hurt.

"Are you actually surprised?"

Blaine thought for a minute, remembering the story of Santana going through Kurt and Rachel's drawers back when they all lived in the loft. "I guess not. But still, that’s an awful thing to do.”

"She'd claim she did it out of love," Kurt said. "Clearly you had the right approach to therapy. I should never write anything down."

"What, just keep a secret list in your head? I wasn't doing it because of Santana!"

"I know, I'm just joking." But Kurt didn't look like he was feeling humorous. He looked nervous, and this only served to bolster Blaine's fears.

"Kurt, Santana's right, isn't she? Whatever she read... There's something wrong that you're not telling me." Blaine pressed his hands to his bony knees, suddenly wishing he had put his pajamas on before beginning this discussion. "Is it me? Do I still look weird? Is that why you don't want…?"

"No, oh my god, no, Blaine. You look beautiful, as breathtakingly handsome as ever." Kurt looked stricken, and reached forward to grab Blaine's hands. "Why would you think I don't want you?"

Blaine shrugged, trying not to cry. He just had to get the words out. "It's just that... I mean, I know my issues, I'm still all wobbly and I get self-conscious, but sometimes I see your face and... It's not just me. You're holding back too."

Kurt looked like he'd rather do anything but answer.

"Just tell me, Kurt," Blaine pleaded.

"There is something," Kurt said softly, and Blaine felt his heart thump against his chest. "No, it's not, it's nothing bad about you. I'm just so grateful to have you back, and I came so close to losing you forever... You weren’t there for all those conversations… the doctors were so sure, Blaine. I thought you were gone." 

Blaine saw the tears running down Kurt's cheeks, and suddenly he didn't care if they ever had sex again, they could be monks for all he cared, and Santana could go to hell, he just wanted Kurt to stop hurting. "Honey, it's okay," he said, surging forward to wrap Kurt tightly in his arms. "It doesn't matter, whatever it is, it's fine, we're fine. We don't have to talk about it."

Kurt sagged against him, letting Blaine hold him tight, and buried his face in his neck. "I just want you to be safe, Blaine. I know you're nervous, and I don't want to push you, or hurt you, I just want you safe with me, always." Kurt sobbed against him. "I can't lose you again, Blaine, I can't do it. I wouldn't survive it."

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Blaine soothed him. "You're not going to lose me, you're not. I'm tougher than you think, especially now. See?" Blaine held up his arm bent at the elbow and made a muscle, succeeding in pulling a smile out of Kurt, even through his tears. "And if something horrible were to happen, Kurt, you're stronger than you think, too. You kept yourself safe for me before, you'd do it again. You're amazing." Blaine pulled back and looked at his husband. He pushed his hair away from his face, and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

Kurt returned the kiss, then dropped his head to Blaine's shoulder, catching his breath. "I should have said something sooner. I didn't mean to worry you."

"You didn’t, really. I mostly figured you were just waiting until I was ready. At least, until Santana got involved."

"I'm going to kill Santana," Kurt muttered into Blaine's skin.

"Hmm. She did mean well. And she got us to talk about it."

"Not sure why we bother paying therapists," Kurt mused, shifting to sit more comfortably curled up against Blaine.

"I imagine there's a good reason in there somewhere." Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's head, and carded his fingers in his hair. "But there's one thing... I'm still not getting the connection between you not wanting to lose me, and being afraid to have sex," Blaine said lightly. He could feel Kurt tense in his arms, and he quickly went on. "I mean, were you afraid you'd fuck me so hard, I'd slip back into a coma? The orgasm would be so good, it would knock me unconscious?" He meant to keep going, but Kurt shoved him back on the bed, and Blaine burst out laughing.

"Blaine Anderson-Hummel, you stop that right now!" Kurt exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face as he pummeled Blaine a few times on his bare chest for emphasis. "How dare you make fun of my pain!" 

Blaine just laughed harder, tears forming in his eyes, and Kurt threw himself down next to him, joining in until they were both weak from it, wiping their eyes and gasping for breath.

Kurt pushed himself up on an elbow and fixed his gaze on Blaine, his eyes intensely blue. "I know it doesn't exactly make sense. I just love you so much... Sometimes it's overwhelming. I don’t want to hurt you, or make anything worse. I want to do everything right for you, I want to fix everything for you, I want you to be happy, and I know it's impossible. It scares me."

"You make me happy, sweetheart," Blaine said, his voice rough from laughing. "Every day, just by being with me. You don’t have to treat me so carefully, and you don't have to fix anything." He took Kurt in his arms, and they wrapped themselves together. "You can't fix me, anyway. We learned that before. But you can love me, and support me, and I'll do the same for you."

"You do. You always do."

"Then we're going to be okay."

"I never said we weren't."

Blaine huffed out a laugh. "Fine, you can have the last word."

"Oh, that's not the last word."

"No?"

"No. The last word is going to be written in my new journal. The one I'm going to buy, with a Santana-proof lock."

"Okay, but what's it going to say?"

Kurt put a finger to Blaine's chest and traced the words as he spoke. "Blaine and Kurt 4 eva."


	24. Chapter 24

Kurt tucked his cashmere scarf into the neck of his jacket as he walked down the street, shivering a little at the chill in the air. Somehow the weather had changed recently from sunny fall days to crisp and chilly early winter without so much as a moment’s notice. He made a note to himself to make sure that Blaine’s warmer clothes were down from the closet shelf – some of them could probably use a trip to the dry cleaner’s, after having been boxed up for so long. Maybe he’d drag him out to go shopping this weekend, too; there was a menswear boutique Isabelle had suggested he check out that sounded promising. Very little entertained Kurt more than dressing his gorgeous husband in fine clothes, and Blaine deserved a few new pieces.

Tonight they were having dinner again at the French bistro near their apartment – an excellent find, as far as Kurt was concerned. The chef offered daily specials to keep the menu interesting, which had the additional effect of encouraging Kurt and Blaine to become regulars, often coming on Friday nights when Blaine usually didn’t have rehearsal. Kurt smiled to himself, looking forward to seeing Blaine across the candlelit table, his lovely eyes sparkling in the light. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Blaine back; it made him want to throw salt over his shoulder, or make sure he didn’t step on any cracks, something to acknowledge the good fortune that had come their way.

Blaine had apparently needed to get some extra work done with Professor Lee before dinner tonight, and had asked Kurt to meet him at the restaurant instead of at home. This was fine with Kurt, as it gave him time to finish up an assignment for Marie Claire. He had worked out an arrangement with the magazine where he worked a flexible part-time schedule, so that he could start taking voice lessons again and, when he was ready, begin auditioning. Kurt was finally letting himself feel how excited – and nervous – he was at the thought of returning to the stage, and he knew he had Blaine to thank for encouraging him. Meeting Blaine later at the restaurant also gave him a chance to stop and buy Blaine a bunch of fall flowers, a flame colored bouquet of dark red roses and luscious orange and yellow lilies. Even the most beautiful flowers couldn’t fully express how in love he was with his husband, but it never hurt to try.

Kurt checked his watch as he came around the corner. He was right on time, but there was a good chance Blaine was there already, maybe seated at their favorite table in the back. To Kurt’s surprise, however, as he approached the restaurant he could see Blaine standing outside, his cane in his hand and a wide grin on his face. Blaine looked like something out of a fashion magazine, ridiculously gorgeous in his navy blue pea coat and a crimson scarf, his curls blowing in the wind, and Kurt’s heart nearly beat out of his chest at the sight of him.

Kurt hurried the rest of the way down the block, coming to a stop in front of Blaine and planting a quick kiss right on his lips. He put a hand on Blaine’s arm, but didn’t move to support him, just took in his confident bearing and his brilliant smile.

“You walked here, didn’t you,” Kurt said, taking Blaine’s free hand and giving it a squeeze. “Without any help.”

Blaine bit his lip, still smiling. “Yup. Just with this.” He waved his cane at Kurt, who had to stop himself from grabbing Blaine to steady him.

“You’re amazing,” Kurt said, unable to resist pulling Blaine into a hug and holding him tightly. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into Blaine’s ear. 

Kurt felt Blaine nuzzle into his neck, pushing his scarf aside, and breathe deep and warm against his skin. “I love you,” Blaine said softly.

“I love you, too,” Kurt replied, burying his nose into Blaine’s hair. He took a deep breath, then pulled back, finding Blaine’s shining honey eyes. “Well, should we go inside?”

Blaine grinned again, looking like this was the best idea Kurt had ever had. He looped his arm through Kurt’s and waved at the door. “Lead the way.”

*****  
Later, Kurt would claim that he knew something was up – that in the past week Brittany had been acting especially odd, Santana had been just a bit too nice, and Blaine had been bubbly at moments when there was truly nothing to be bubbly about, even for Blaine. But the truth was, he was as thoroughly surprised by the party as he had ever been by anything in his life. 

“Gobsmacked,” his father said, wrapping an arm around Kurt’s shoulder as he stood speechless in front of the crowd. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before, Kurt.”

“I’m enjoying it,” Mercedes said. “You’re darn cute.”

“How… how the hell did you all get here?” Kurt asked, looking around at the room filled with Directions, New and Newer, as well as a sprinkling of Warblers and various friends of his and Blaine’s from college and work. 

“Wonders of modern transportation, dude,” Sam said, clapping Kurt on the back. “Although the train wasn’t as fast as I thought it would be. You’d think we’d have a bullet train by now. It’d be way cooler.”

Kurt glanced up at Blaine, standing nearby with Wes and Trent. He looked stunning tonight, dressed in a dark gray blazer over a slim fitting midnight blue shirt, a blood red and gold bow tie of Kurt’s design at his neck. Blaine flashed him an ebullient smile, and Kurt felt his heart expand inside his chest. What Blaine had done for him tonight was incredible. Completely unnecessary, but so very much appreciated. 

Kurt still had his moments of doubt, when he worried that eventually Blaine would come to his senses and find fault with what Kurt had done, or failed to do, over the past few years. But in his clearer moments he knew it wasn’t in Blaine to hold a grudge against him for what had happened. Kurt knew that Blaine loved him with an abandon that didn’t come easily to Kurt, but he tried each day to believe it, to take it into his heart and let it warm him through and through. He didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky, but he knew Blaine was his, and he was Blaine’s, and there was nothing that could compare.

A few minutes later Kurt extricated himself from a conversation with Rachel, Jesse, and Isabelle (who had maintained a somewhat surprising fascination with Rachel over the years) and came up behind Blaine, who was fixing himself a drink at the bar. He slid his arms around Blaine’s trim waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder, breathing in the citrusy smell of his cologne.

“You are indeed a miracle man,” Kurt said softly, as Blaine turned in his arms.

“Are you having a good time?” Blaine asked. “I know how much you wanted a party. And I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Kurt’s heart melted. “You didn’t have to do this for me. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“Says the man who brought me flowers tonight, for no reason at all.” Blaine sat down in a nearby chair, and pulled Kurt down into his lap. “Seriously, you’ve been so wonderful to me, through all of this. I just wanted to show you how grateful I am.” He pressed a sweet kiss to Kurt’s lips. “And let you have some fun, without having to arrange it all yourself.”

“Some fun, hm?” Kurt leaned in for another kiss, letting his tongue trace Blaine’s lips and slip inside. “Then why’d you invite all these people?”

Blaine laughed against his cheek. “Very funny.”

Kurt sat back against the edge of the table, looking around at the room, which had been arranged with round tables around the sides and an open space in the middle. “I didn’t even know this place had a function room.”

“I noticed it a few weeks ago. And since the owners have taken a liking to us, they didn’t even charge me for it.”

Kurt shook his head as he saw Artie and Tina come in, and head towards Kitty and Jake. “How many more people are we expecting?”

Blaine shrugged. “Santana was keeping count. Puck couldn’t make it, and neither could Quinn. I’m not sure if there’s any significance to that. And I don’t know about some of the kids from the year we were coaching – Mason was in charge of contacting that group, and he wasn’t the most organized assistant.

“Mason, holy crap. I haven’t talked to him in years.”

“Sleeping Beauty wanted it to be small,” Santana said, appearing next to them and giving Blaine a squeeze on the shoulder. “But we got a little carried away.”

“Hey, at least I only invited people from show choirs we were actually in this time,” Blaine said, grinning.

“How the hell did you ever get Vocal Adrenaline to come to Dalton for the proposal, anyway?” Kurt asked. “They were our sworn rivals.”

Sam heard the question from where he was chatting nearby with Tina and turned around to answer. “Blaine just blinked his big brown eyes at them a few times and sang them a song – it was awesome. He was like the Pied Piper of show choirs,” Sam said, clinking his beer bottle against Blaine’s glass. “I’m pretty sure some of those dancers just heard ‘proposal’ and got all twitterpated. No one can resist those puppy eyes, am I right?”

Kurt blushed as Sam made a suggestive face at him. “I think you’re mixing your metaphors, but you’re definitely right.” Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine’s cheek. “I love your eyes, you know,” he whispered in Blaine’s ear. Blaine gazed intently at him, and Kurt wondered if he knew what Kurt was thinking – looking into Blaine’s eyes was especially precious to him now, now that Kurt knew what it was like not to be able to see them. He had said as much to Blaine a few nights ago, when they were curled up together in bed, faces washed, teeth brushed, and ready to doze off. Blaine had blushed furiously and hid his face in the pillow, which of course just made Kurt laugh and tickle him until he turned over and opened his eyes again. 

Brittany joined them and asked Sam about something having to do with cereal and McKinley; Kurt didn’t try to follow it. He figured if it was important, Blaine could fill him in later. He was just starting to think about checking out the appetizers that were displayed on a side table when a tall redhead rushed over to them – the stage manager from Blaine’s show, Kurt remembered. She clearly wanted to talk shop with Blaine, so Kurt slid off Blaine’s lap and excused himself with a quick kiss to his husband’s cheek. He wandered over to the display of cheeses, noting that his favorites were included – of course, he thought, because Blaine picked them out. Marley and Ryder were grazing at the table as well, and gave him big hugs and broad smiles, which just made Kurt feel slightly uncomfortable. He had never gotten to know that group of New Directions very well. 

Kurt looked around for someone more familiar to talk to, but before he decided whether to hone in on Mercedes’ conversation with some former Warblers, or make small talk with Mason, he was distracted by a tall man in the doorway. It was Cooper, Kurt realized quickly, and he seemed to be hesitating over whether to actually come in to the room. So much for finding a less awkward conversation partner, he thought to himself. Drawing in a deep breath, Kurt walked over to him. _Be calm, be nice,_ he thought to himself. _Do this for Blaine._

Cooper was just on the other side of the doorway, looking back out into the restaurant, when Kurt reached him. “Long time no see,” he said, wincing as he realized he might have already gone over the “be nice” line by pointing out Cooper’s absence.

Cooper jumped, turning to Kurt, his blue eyes wide. “Kurt.” Cooper blinked, staring at him, and then glanced out again as if considering whether to make a run for it.

Rendering Cooper Anderson speechless hadn’t been his plan, and Kurt actually felt a little bad for the guy.

“Cooper, hey, relax,” Kurt put a hand on his arm. “It’s great that you’re here. Blaine will be so happy to see you.”

“He will? Do you think so?” Cooper swallowed hard. “Santana called me and asked me to come. Ordered me, actually, which is interesting given that I don’t work for her or anything. But I wasn’t sure if Blaine really wanted me here.”

“Blaine will be thrilled.”

Cooper still looked tense; guilty, even. “What about you?”

Kurt smiled wryly. “Me too.”

Cooper didn’t look convinced.

“Really, Cooper, let’s consider it water under the bridge.” Kurt glanced across the room, to where Blaine was gesturing wildly with his hands, cackling at something that Sam and Kitty were talking to him about. He was unbearably cute. “Look at him.”

Cooper did, and his face grew soft.

“Blaine’s back, Cooper, and he’s amazing. Let’s just focus on that.”

Cooper nodded slowly, biting his lip in a way that reminded Kurt of Blaine. “Into the breach,” Kurt whispered, and gave him a push towards Blaine. The delighted look on his husband’s face when he looked up and saw his brother coming towards him confirmed what Kurt had told Cooper – Blaine was thrilled to see him. Kurt sat down at a table and watched fondly as Cooper pulled Blaine into a tight hug, keeping his arm slung around Blaine’s neck even as Blaine tried to squirm out of his hold. 

“So, did I do good?” Santana asked, plopping into the empty chair next to Kurt and crossing her legs over his lap. 

Kurt tilted his head, examining Santana’s face carefully. She was being sincere, which was happening more and more these days. “Yeah, San, you did very well.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, careful not to poke himself with her long nails. “How did you even know how to find Cooper?”

“Wes told me. Duh.” Santana scoffed. “Did you know Cooper’s shooting a real movie now? One that will be released in theaters and everything?”

“No, I didn’t. That’s great.” Kurt paused, looking at Cooper and Blaine, who were now both waving their arms in a parody of Cooper’s “pointing” technique, Sam cracking up next to them. “How did he get the time off to come down here?”

Santana shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe he’s reassessing his priorities.” She pulled her hand away from Kurt’s and played with the ring on her finger, glancing over towards where Brittany was dancing with Tina, Marley and Kitty.

“We’ve both been pretty lucky, for two kids from a backwards Midwestern town,” Kurt said softly.

“Yeah, we really have.” 

*****

During dinner their guests insisted on banging their silverware against their glasses until Kurt and Blaine kissed. “It’s not an anniversary party,” Blaine protested, but no one cared.

“It’s better than Sue Sylvester locking us in the elevator to make us kiss,” Kurt mused, leaning in to kiss Blaine again, tasting the rosemary from the lamb on his lips. “You didn’t invite her, right?” he asked, feigning distress as he looked around the room.

Blaine laughed, and pressed back for another kiss. “No, I did not. Although I do still think we owe her for that one.”

“Sue’s craziness was effective on some level, I suppose.”

Blaine sat back and gazed at Kurt, his face filled with adoration and trust. He found Kurt’s hand under the table and held it tightly. “I would have figured it out without her, you know. You were always going to be it for me, Kurt. I was just scared.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” Kurt leaned in to kiss Blaine again, despite the lack of silverware clanging. He didn’t need anyone to give him permission to kiss his husband. Which was a good thing, because he really couldn’t resist.

As people finished up their meals the music picked up, and their friends rushed to take a turn at the microphone, most of them still as enamored with performing as they had been in high school. Kurt waited until Blaine was turned away from him, talking with Santana and Brittany on his other side, then gave a little squeeze to Blaine’s shoulder and went over to the band.

Kurt took the microphone from Rachel, who had just finished singing _Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better_ with Jesse, and waited until he had the room’s attention. “Thanks so much for coming, everyone. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have all of you here tonight.” Kurt found his dad’s eyes for a moment, and Burt just nodded, as if to say “go on, now.”

“I’m sure you’ve all heard Blaine’s explanation for this little shindig. He seems to think I’ve been under some terrible strain. That having him back, being together with the love of my life again, isn’t the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me.” Kurt could see Blaine start to blush already. Brittany had moved to his other side to take Kurt’s seat, and she and Santana put their arms around him as he ducked his head in embarrassment. 

Kurt looked around the room, taking in the faces of all their friends and family, and then found Blaine’s eyes again. “The truth is there is no one who has been working harder than Blaine. He’s going to kill me for saying this, because he somehow feels like his accomplishments aren’t significant. Like with all the other amazing things he has done in his life, he tends to downplay them. Even having to literally re-learn how to move, how to talk, how to walk – all this is apparently no big deal.” 

“But I know that’s just not true. Since this spring I literally watched Blaine come alive. He came back to himself, and he came back to me. He did what no one thought he could do. I have never been so proud to be his husband.” Kurt swallowed hard, and crossed the room to Blaine, who stood up shakily as Kurt approached.

Kurt took Blaine’s hand in his and held it to his chest, feeling him tremble. “I love you so much,” he breathed out, and Blaine just blinked at him for a moment before pressing himself against Kurt for a passionate kiss. Kurt felt Blaine start to bend him back into a dramatic dip, then think better of it and straighten up, and by the time their lips parted they were both grinning like loons.

“I love you too,” Blaine said, his voice low and his eyes wide. Their friends burst into cheers. 

When the chaos died down, Kitty darted up to the microphone. Marley was right behind her, a McKinley backpack over her shoulder. “Those of you who had the good fortune to be on the Cheerios with Blaine may have experienced his attachment to careful planning,” Kitty began. “He was known to pace off our performance space before each show, just to make sure that we wouldn’t go careening off into the audience if we got off balance.”

“Blaine was the same way in Glee club,” Marley added. “I can’t tell you how many times he helped me rehearse a number over and over, until I was at least confident enough to go out on stage and give it a try. Knowing I was well prepared always helped me get over my anxiety.”

“Blaine is equally well prepared for tonight’s festivities,” Kitty said, unzipping the backpack and handing Marley a shimmering piece of green and gold fabric. “He thought that Kurt might try to turn the attention away from himself, so he asked us to reprise a number that most of you probably haven’t seen.”

Kitty pulled a set of black cat ears out of the bag and placed them on her head, tied a long black tail around her waist, and checked to make sure that Marley’s cape was properly fastened. She turned back to the mic as Marley struck a dramatic pose. “Kurt, this song is dedicated to you.”

As the music began, Blaine turned Kurt to fully face the girls, lacing his hands around Kurt’s waist from behind and tucking his chin on Kurt’s shoulder.

“Blaine… what have you done?” Kurt asked, as Kitty started to swing her tail suggestively, and Sam gave a loud wolf whistle.

But Blaine just giggled, mouthing the words against Kurt’s ear as the girls sang.

_Where have all the good men gone_  
_And where are all the gods?_  
_Where’s the street-wise Hercules_  
_To fight the rising odds?_  
_Isn’t there a white knight, upon a fiery steed?_  
_Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need_

As the chorus began, their guests joined in, Ryder and Sam dancing up to Marley and Kitty and waving their arms about wildly.

_I need a hero!_  
_I’m holding out for a hero ‘til the end of the night._  
_He’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fast, and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight._  
_I need a hero!_  
_I’m holding out for a hero ‘til the morning light._  
_He’s gotta be sure, and it’s gotta be soon, and he’s gotta be larger than life._

Kitty yanked the microphone out of the stand and danced it over to Blaine, who took it and began singing to Kurt, his eyes filled with laughter.

_Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasy_  
_Somewhere just beyond my reach, there’s someone reaching back for me_

Blaine threw his free arm up into the air and in a fantastically diva-esque move, did a trust fall back into Kitty and Marley’s arms as he continued to sing.

_Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat_  
_It’s gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet._

Blaine raised an eyebrow questioningly at Kurt as he finished the phrase, and Kurt took the hint and pulled Blaine away from the girls. He swept Blaine into a spin, holding him tight around the waist as their friends picked up the chorus again.

_I need a hero!_  
_I’m holding out for a hero ‘til the end of the night_

As the song continued, Kurt pressed a fiery kiss of his own to Blaine’s lips, but Blaine was breathing hard in some combination of breathlessness and laughter and could barely return it. “You are the most wonderfully romantic and ridiculous man in all the world,” Kurt said to him, his hands spread wide on Blaine’s back. “I’m pretty sure I just fell more in love with you, and I could have sworn such a thing was completely impossible.”

Blaine flushed darker and bit his lip, but then his smile returned. “Apparently I’m in the business of the impossible these days,” he said mischievously. 

“And thank god for that,” Kurt said, pulling him close and digging his face into Blaine’s neck. 

As they were catching their breath, Sam jogged over, the backpack in his hand. “I’ll leave this over by the door,” he said, zipping it up. “It’s all in there,” he said, raising his eyebrows and giving Blaine an exaggerated wink.

“Do I even want to know?” Kurt asked.

“Mmm, yes? But later,” Blaine responded, and then added in a low voice, “when there isn’t an audience.”

Kurt flushed as he considered what use Blaine might have for superhero props, but his attention was drawn back to the dance floor as they heard someone clearing their throat. Mercedes was standing across the room from them, a microphone in her hand. “Hello all you beautiful people,” she said. “I _know_ this isn’t an anniversary party, but Artie and I couldn’t resist doing this one. I think we can all agree it has a whole different meaning now. We love you guys, and we are, and always have been, in awe of the love you share.” She put her hand to her heart, and then nodded at the band set up behind her.

The music began, and Kurt’s heart flipped as he recognized the song.

_At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over, and love is like a song._

Kurt turned to Blaine, but before he could decide whether what he had in mind was a good idea or a bad one, Blaine took care of it for him. 

“May I have this dance?” Blaine held out his hand, his eyes as brave as they had been the first time he uttered those words to Kurt, his face reflecting the same determination, tinged with a hint of insecurity.

Kurt nodded. “You may.”

Blaine handed his cane to Sam as he let Kurt lead him to the center of the dance floor, then curled in close against Kurt’s shoulder, his arms around Kurt’s neck. Kurt wrapped his arms around his waist, supporting Blaine gently as they swayed together. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Kurt murmured in Blaine’s ear, and Blaine hummed softly in agreement against his skin. “Now, and forever.”

 _You smiled, you smiled, oh, and then the spell was cast._  
_And here we are in heaven._  
_For you are mine, at last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs featured in this chapter are _Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better,_ from Annie Get Your Gun; _Holding Out for a Hero,_ from Footloose, and _At Last,_ by Mack Gordon and Harry Warren.
> 
> I hope you all have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have truly enjoyed writing it and sharing it with you. Please leave me a comment and let me know how you liked the ending (and especially if you haven’t commented before, please say hi!). Your comments mean a great deal to me.
> 
> I'm also considering a few one-shots in this 'verse. If you have any prompts, feel free to leave them here or visit me on tumblr (flowerfan2).


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